


You Could Be Mine

by WinchesterSixx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Bondage, Clothing, Cranky Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Demon Dean Winchester, Dom Abaddon (Supernatural), Dom/sub, F/M, Hell, Hell Trauma, Hellhounds, John Winchester Mentioned - Freeform, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sex, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, War, dean winchester is a good boy, fashionista dean winchester, ladies in waiting, peacock dean winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-11 00:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterSixx/pseuds/WinchesterSixx
Summary: Abaddon didnt die, she went to Hell. She went to Hell and OWNED it.She has her Kingdom, her armies, her subjects. But she's missing her Knight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AbadDean is my ultimate ship. Just dirty and cracked and problematic. Not to mention hot as hell.
> 
> This has been rattling around in my brain for about a year now, so I decided (with encouragement) to write it down. 
> 
> Thank you, seriously, Sarah for her proofreading and story line help. Shes already talked me out of plot holes and off of ooc cliffs. I heart her, I really do.
> 
> I'm not even gonna try to set up a posting schedule. It should be fun though, so stick around?.

Ruling a kingdom could be done one of two ways. Either tell everyone you're the Queen, or you look and act like it. 

She had her subjects; demons, knights, beings from Earth and Purgatory that could serve her needs. While Earth was destroying itself in the 21st century, Hell was thriving.

 

Hell was infinite. Heaven, too. There was a lot of work to do.

 

Abbadon wasn't going to be a traditional Queen. That wasn't her way. Traditional   
was boring, predictable even. 

Her gowns were velvet and leather, accented with gossamer and silk. Spun gold and jewels draped her shoulders and laced through her hair. She didn't accept the stiff lace collars and demure petticoats of traditional rulers. Her throne of bones had been molded to her body and allowed her to sit in a way that showed the long expanse of her legs.

 

Hell was her kingdom. And she'd make it so. No more suits. No more quotas. Torture of those who should be tortured, but power would be her goal.

 

Many didn't know there were segments of Hell.

Prisons and chambers ruled by Alistair. It was his job to skin the child molesters, rapists, spouse beaters, mass murders, terrorists. These were the souls that Alistair toyed with. Since his work was appropriate, she left him be.

 

There were barters for the souls of prisoners who prayed to her for mercy when the abuse became too much, when they were ready to get off the slab and pick up a knife. Some would be kept under Alistair's tutelage, but those whose prayers were desperate enough would be sent to Abbadon. When a soul was that broken, their servitude was boundless.

There were breeding grounds. Hellhounds, ghouls and anything else that had no will; that only followed instructions. There was no bargaining, no coercing. And to put up with the shit and the slime and the stink, the one being that almost destroyed everything, Crowley himself. Whenever Abbadon needed new stock, this was where she came. When she arrived, she made sure his knee was in a pile of muck when it bent to her.

 

If it was hell hounds she needed, she always took female puppies. The power of a woman transcended species. The puppies were trained by Abaddon, not the keepers. If she took a liking to one, she'd separate it from the hunting and security packs. As of now, only one heeled at her foot: Gunnora. The name meant ‘wary in battle.’

 

This was her baby, her companion. But most of all, her protector. Any time Abaddon was in the throne room, Gunnora would hover behind her, head and shoulders above the backrest even while sitting. The beasts body was built like a mastiff with the coat of a wolfhound. Black and white fur blended into the shadows and fractures of the bone that made Abbadon's seat. Gunnora, well trained, would stay still, emitting low growls and whines that shook the stone of the great room.

 

Of all the places to visit, one was actually aesthetically pleasing. These were the training grounds of the souls and beasts of her Army. Cain had full control here. He'd fallen back into his role as The Father of Murder. He knew the ins and outs, weaknesses and strengths of each being. His work was why her reign hadn't been challenged: they would face an organized evil few had imagined.

 

And Abbadon? Her castle was dead center on the map. In the bowels and crypts was a room of portals to and from Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, Earth and the Darkness, along with the different lands her rule reached. Portals to other planes shimmered into existence occasionally. However, they didn't stay long. This was not the hell they'd prepared for.

 

Her court was full. Ladies in waiting for her every need. If they crossed her… Alistair took them. She wasn't one to repeat herself. Frustration quickly turned to fury. Those at the end of her rage were rarely seen again. There was a reason they called her the Red Queen. It wasn't her hair. It was the blood that colored the rivers. Hell was finally Hell.

At the end of each day Abaddon was bathed and dressed for bed by her handmaids. After being doted on all day, she would sleep alone, save for Gunnora. She needed something, maybe even someone. There was a feeling that something was just off. It was too quiet when she was alone, every responsibility done. It was an unfamiliar desire. A desire to have one being to rule over, more so than the expanse of her Kingdom. Someone who would submit because they needed it. Because they liked it. One twisted, broken soul. She knew who she wanted. 

#####

"See what I see. Feel what I feel."

These were the words that pulled the darkness up in Dean. That darkness, it had always been there. The darkness that was carved and refined every Goddamn time he had to give for everybody else.

What about Dean?

Every time he gave up being a kid to make dinner and excuses for Sam when John was off somewhere.

What about Dean?

Sold his soul and went to hell for 40 years, just so Sam could live.

What about Dean?

Losing Sam to Lucifer to save the world?

Losing bits of himself so he could play a reaper and find Sam's soul.

Fucking angels.

Fucking trials.

Fucking Mark of Cain.

Fucking Metatron.

What about Dean?

But, it was Metatron who set him free. That blade to the heart. The shell Dean had carried the weight of the world on finally lay still and at rest. Until Crowley boiled his insides.

Who cares about any of that other shit.

Bitch, what about Dean?

After leaving Crowley, Dean traveled on his own. He was mostly staying a step or two away from his brother. The game of cat and mouse was entertaining to some degree. 

Even though the Mark on his arm itched to be fed, that bit of Dean constantly poked through. Whining in his thoughts about being such a failure. Becoming everything he hated, everything he'd spent three decades hunting. A monster.

He deserved this. This was his fate. To burn the world down around him and lose everything he ever cared about. 

Wandering from shithole cities to podunk towns was maddening. The lack of focus made the Mark scream while Dean slept. He needed to focus. He was a Knight of Hell. He needed to serve.


	2. Hot Rails To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Now we build the story.
> 
> Again, to Sarah, this wouldn't be a thing. 
> 
> Check the tags as you go! I'll add as the story develops.

Crowley gave him freedom like he never felt before. The End of the World wasn't his problem anymore. No one was his responsibility anymore. Dean was no longer the guy everyone thought they knew. 

He could drink what he wanted.

'Oh, order Dean a whiskey.’

Nah, he drank tequila now.

'Dean only likes classic rock.'

Have some ‘I'm Too Sexy’, bitch.

Hook-ups were still falling out of his pockets. Before, he'd always felt like he needed to make other people's pleasure his priority. It was about him and his rocks now. If he wanted to impress, then he did that move they liked. But then he was done. 

But Crowley. Fucking Crowley. He had to go and fuck it all up. Asshole tried to put him to work, make him fall in line. That part of him was done. The “we have work to do” bullshit. Yeah, no more of that noise. Now it was just him and where ever he was going next. 

No ties. No duties. No responsibilities.

A lesser man, a human man, would be bleary-eyed after driving 16 hours straight. Ya see, Dean didn't have those annoying little problems anymore. The human part of him was gone. Eventually he would crash somewhere, but fatigue was a mortal inconvenience. 

Without the radio to zone out to, the last of his interactions with The King of Hell played on loop. 

The so-called King of Hell. Ha! Nobody he'd ever bow to.

~~~~~  
Sliding into the empty stool next to Crowley, Dean was PISSED. Most of his night had been spent fighting and killing second rate demons. He couldn't even tilt his head to address the pompous fucker who he was quickly growing weary of. Instead, he slammed the shot Crowley had ordered him and didn't utter gratitude, just got right to business.

"You sent those demons to kill me?"

The tiny man (compared to Dean) shrugged and chuckled.

"To keep you sharp." Crowley's tone was sing-song dismissive. Meant to put Dean at ease.

"Really? You're just sacrificing all those meatsuits to hone my skills?"

Throwing his stout body so the stool turned to face his current bestie, Crowley indignantly tried to explain his actions.

"If it wasn't for me throwing demon chum your way, what do you think would've happened? The Mark needs to be sated. Otherwise…”

Toying with the empty shot glass in front of him Dean rolled his eyes, mocking the munchkin with a Napoleon complex.

"Otherwise, I turn into a demon. Yeah, yeah. I sort of got that six weeks ago."

Absolutely done with the conversation, Dean stood to leave, but Crowley clamped a hand over Dean's arm. The one not carrying the Mark. Dean's eyes traced from Crowley's stubby fingers, up his arm to the well pressed lapel of his suit before staring straight into his eyes, flicking his own to black as a warning.

Crowley pulled his hand away and patted the stool Dean had just vacated.

"Hey. Sit down. Sit. I needed to keep you sharp for our future, about which we need to..."

Dean didn't sit, but jabbed his finger right below the knot in Crowley's tie. He jabbed again and again, punctuating each staccato word.

"Okay, see, the deal was we howl at the moon -- no time stamp, no expiration date."

"We've howled. We've bayed. We've done extraordinary things to triplets, all of which have been massively entertaining. I will treasure our Flickr albums forever. But now it's time for us to accept what we are and go back to work."

"Pass."

Crowley's eyes lit up while he explained his big plan. "Think of it -- the King of Hell, Dean Winchester by his side. Together we rule. Together we create the perfect Hell. And all of this that's bloomed between us never ends. We're not ending the party. We're just moving the party. Out with the club circuit, in with the stadium tour."

Dean looked at his feet and shook his head, blowing off every grand promise that had just been made. The follow up subject brought a twinge to Dean's gut.

"Did I forget to mention I spoke to Moose earlier? Yes… See. Uh, apparently, he's been tracking us for some time now. He got my text from the cell of that demon that you stabbed in blah, blah, blah. It was -- words were spoken. Emotions. I realize, in retrospect, perhaps too many words, too many emotions. The call got traced, I suppose. He will be here by morning, at the latest."

"You sold me out. Well, that's just lovely. Why am I fucking SUPRISED, Crowley?"

Crowley was so pissed, he was doing that thing where he couldn't control the volume of his voice.

"I don't know what's going on with you. I truly don't. But I've had just about enough of it. Sold you out? Try 'doing you a favor.' Everything I've done for you for the past six months -- the Mark, the First Blade, midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side -- has been a favor, a gift if you will, whether you see it or you don't. Take the night. Decide. You know where to find me."

"Fine. One job. Just one. Then I'm out. Got me?"

~~~~~

He didn't even do the killing Crowley had instructed him to do. He was supposed to kill Mrs Married to a Douche. Instead, he killed the douche bag himself. The one that sold his soul so his wife would die and couldn't get half his shit. It was a win-win. He just didn't like the guy anyway.

Running through all this again made Dean's grip and twist his hands over the Impala's wheel. Jesus, Crowley is a dick! Such a dick that Dean couldn't even be bothered to kill him. Well, ok fine. He almost did. He snuck into the Roadhouse and eaves dropped for a bit before confronting him.

What was it his flunkies were talking about? Oh yeah, something about rumblings in Hell. Factions being claimed or rising up. Something like that.

 

Thinking back to it now, did Crowley ever change the subject quick when Dean walked in. His tone had changed changed to that of a proud dad asking about baseball practice when Dean walked in. 

~~~~~

"Dean! How did it go?" 

"Fine. Fine. Uh... He's dead, and you're right -- I- I feel amazing."

With a shrug and a smile he thought he'd done pretty damn good at wrapping things up.

“He? The target was a woman, Squirrel! Is your sexuality so twisted you can't tell the difference? The client? You killed the client?!"

Dean took two steps closer and spoke low and even. He was far enough into the asshole's personal space that he had to push his chin to his chest to look down on him. 

"Does it matter? He was a douche. Now he's a dead douche."

"Of course it matters! The deal was one dead wife for one soul. The wife's not dead, I don't get the soul. It's math."

Dean's hands were out to the sides as he turned on his heel to leave.

"Well...There you go."

Crowley tried to grab control back only to end up sounding like a desperate step-parent, trying in vain to get respect from a teenager.

"Hey! Don't turn your back on me!"

The room was sickeningly quiet when Dean turned again, lower lip drawn in. With cold eyes and one shove, he sent Crowley ass over tea kettle. Dean glared down, daring him to get back up.

Scooting back and getting tangled in his own suit, Crowley grunted his way up, tugging and pulling on his jacket.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Dean's head shake was almost as a slow and lazy as his sideways grin. His voice was smooth and dangerous. Like venom.

"Oh, whatever I want."

Crowley was shaking so badly with rage you could hear it in his voice.

"Really? Because I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean -- what are you? A demon? If so, why isn't Lester's wife dead? Did you feel sorry for her? So maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black peepers and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favor and PICK A BLOODY SIDE?!"

A look of regret appeared suddenly on the Scotsman's face, making his ears and forehead flush red. He had to will his eyes to stare back at Dean when he got brushed off.

The final words Dean had ever planned on speaking to Crowley left a acidic tone in the air. "Or what? Hmm? Go ahead. Make a move. See how it ends. Cause I ain't your friggin' bestie, and I ain't taking orders from you. Got it? I'm fucking done, asshole. I'll get my shit and I'm out."

~~~~~

That was the last time Dean saw Crowley. He was able to outrun Sam and just keep driving. It had been 2 months. Not a peep from anyone. Every last person he didn't want to see getting smaller and smaller in the rearview.

#####

Dean couldn't even be bothered to remember the names of the places he stopped at anymore, but it was time to get out of this one.

His last bag was chucked in the back seat when he heard a foot fall on the gravel behind him. "Dean Winchester...."

There's no way, no fucking way. "You're dead. I killed you myself, Abaddon."

In the dirty reflection of the Impala's window he could see her standing there. All red hair and leather jacket.

"Did you though? I heard Crowley went and pissed on your parade. Ya know, I can offer you something better, if you're up for a trip?"

 

“Why would I go anywhere with you? Give me one good reason.”

Dean turned his body against the car and crossed his legs at the ankles. Hands clasped loosely at his hips, he waited for answer.

“Things have changed since you've been out here running around like a nomad. Nothing is like it was.”

Dean looked up through his lashes at Abaddon. Watching her walk to him, stopping just over an arm’s reach away.

"Well, Handsome? Let's go for a ride in this beast and I’ll show you what I mean. I'll even tell you how I’m not dead.”

Dean stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I run alone. I don’t need anyone with me. You’re just gonna get in my way. It won’t be cute. Pretty little thing with her head smashed in on the side of the road. Fuck you, Abadd…”

“That’s enough machismo, Dean.”

And Dean stopped. He was COMPELLED to stop. It felt right, and it felt right because it was her.

She pointed a deep red colored fingernail into his chest. The end, filed to a point, jabbed into the bone. The threat of pain inflicted by a woman made his mind wander.

“You might be the strongest Dean you’ve ever been, but I outrank you.”

“What are you? Head Bitch In Charge of Hell's Knights?”

Her hand fell flat against his chest and she sauntered into his space until there was no sunlight between them.

“Oh. I’m nothing near that rank.”

Dean’s eyes flicked from green to black and back again.

“Then I’m damn sure not gonna curtsey to you.”

“You should. I’m your Queen, Dean.”

**********

The two of them were knee to knee in a dinky, dirty bar off the man road. The smell of old beer and stale cigarettes hung in the air. Trucker caps dotted the room around them.

When Abaddon had stepped in, the conversation stopped and every head turned her way. She squared her shoulders and moved like a snake to the back. When Dean’s frame darkened the door, coughs let muttered conversations started up again.

After they ordered a bottle of Patron, the bar flies only stole glances their way.

“So, the Queen, huh? Look, Crowley’s the King. Everybody knows that. You’re delusional. He thinks you’re dead because he was there. I drove The First Blade into your guts, remember? So, Abaddon is dead. That leaves the twenty thousand dollar question. Who the fuck are you?”

“Remember that blinding white light? That was all for show. Stabbing me over and over? Same. You and Sam cut off my head and I came back, right? Still, you think I couldn’t survive this? See, Knights of Hell, they can’t be killed. Not on Earth.”

His head tilted just a bit to the side and one eyebrow arched in confusion.

“On Earth you can’t be killed? Does that mean you’re vulnerable somewhere else?”

Long, thin fingers interlaced on the table in front of her, pushing the empty shot glass towards Dean. Leaning in on her forearms she spoke low and soft.

“In Hell. It’s not what you saw all those years ago. It’s my Kingdom and I run it as such.”

“And you want me to..”

Dean waved his hand, palm up over table, ignoring the glass she pushed at him.

 

“I need someone to organize my troops. Someone who is calculated and cold. You’re not possessed, Dean. This… It’s just the dark side of you. That makes you so very strong and unflinching.”

Abaddon looked from Dean to the bottle and back. Again, he felt that compulsion to serve her. To give her what she needed. 

He cleared his throat and filled the glass before he pushed the shot back at her. “Shits and giggles. Let’s say I go with you and it’s bullshit. Am I going to have to kill a bunch of demons when I leave?”

Abaddon's fingers spread against her chest in mock offence. As if she was clutching a string of pearls.

“Of course not! Not until you swear your oath to me. After that, leaving would be treason and you'd be fleeing the hangman. However, you're free to leave until you've made a decision. So? Will you come with me? For those shits and giggles?” One finger fondled the rim of the glass while her lower lip pulled between her teeth.

Pensive, Dean examined the room around him. Turning back to the self proclaimed ‘Queen', the pink tip of his tongue darted out and left a wet sheen on his bottom lip before breaking out in a threatening smile that should have terrified her if she were human. Even so, the deep rumble of his voice was beautiful to her when he replied with two syllables.

“Show me.”

**********

In a clearing off a dirt road, they stood at the nose of the Impala that Dean had nicknamed and doted on for his adult life. It was littered with fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles now. 

“I can cloak it. Let you come back for it when you’re sent to Earth.”

Dean shrugged on his jacket and waved a dismissal towards a gleaming fender. “It’s just a car.”

The flat tone gave her pause. He really was not the Dean she had threatened on his knees in front of her.

“Ok then, walk with me. It’s not far."

He gave a grand sweep of his arm and bowed deep at the waist.

“After you, your Majesty. Or whatever.”

They walked through the deep woods, leaving the black car about 2 miles behind. Dean was still tense and watched the back of Abaddon's head while she chose her steps carefully. Dean’s boot caught on a tangle of root, but he stepped out of it easily.

“Watch where you step, Dean. We’re almost there, but it gets a little dicey up here. Won’t be long now. Trust me.”

“We both know that’s not gonna happen.” But a spark in his belly wanted to. He wanted to trust her. 

She stayed several feet ahead of him, almost gliding over the steep rock outcrops. Using that snake-like movement again to maneuver between the trees and dense bushes.

“You will though. You’ll trust me. With everything you have, Dean.”

Frustrated with her ego, he looked away for just a moment, only to let his gaze linger in the back and forth movement of her hips. He could have sworn she was trying to hypnotize him. 

The trees had gotten so thick he could barely see the space between them. His foot came down on a flat, hard spot. There was a stone square embedded flush with the dirt.

“What the fuck is this? Hey! God dammit! Wait up!”

The canopy of branches above him blocked so much of the light he had to strain to see her red hair above the cream colored line of her neck.

The stones were becoming more frequent. Every third step landed on one. He had to push branches aside and squeeze between trunks.

“ABADDON!”

Bracing his hand on a trunk, cool fragments of stone met his hand. Up ahead there were more stones than path and they climbed up at the edges of his vision. It was almost as if the forest was turning into a tunnel.

“Follow my voice, Winchester. I’ll wait.”

There was a flicker of light ahead. Another further away. That one with a partner about 12 feet across from it. There wasn’t light any more. Just an ambient glow of, what he now knew were short, fat candles perched on metal sconces.

The only greenery now was tendrils of ivy, sprouting from the mortar between the stones that rose several feet above his head, meeting the ceiling. Abaddon was standing in front of him. Only a few strides away.

He was sure it was her. But it wasn’t the same. Everything had changed.

**********

Watching him try to navigate his steps while his head was on a swivel side to side, Abaddon felt the chills run over skin followed by a warm breeze. She could feel it in her bones that he was home.

The weight of a gown replaced the restrictions of leather. The tickle of hair on her shoulder blades, along with the the thin gold encircling her head, replaced the tight up-do that she wore on Earth. The heels of her feet settled from stiletto boots into soft, silken ballet slippers. The final touch was the spun gold that clasped around her neck connected to the chains that held the chainmail of scales covering her chest-exposed now by her column dress.

Dean was close. Close enough that she saw hints of his hair lit by the lamps on the walls of the hallway.

“Your Grace?”

The Royal Guard had arrived to escort her to court.

“Stay back, Eli. I found him.”


	3. Queen of the Ryche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean dives into Abaddon's vision of hell and is entranced. All the while, that need to please her pulls at his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now, posts are set about once a week. Since I'm posting this as a wip, so I'll be adding tags as we go. 
> 
> Feedback is wanted!!

There was a brief, tense moment when Eli's glove hovered over the hilt of his sword.

“I said stand down.”

Abaddon kept her eyes on her guards while she called out for Dean. 

“Don't be shy. We have people to see, Dean.”

#####

The moist, pungent smell of peat surrounded Dean. The last bits of the forest were fading into the slabs of stone making up the walls. 

Any sunlight from the forest was gone. He was too deep into the cavern for it to filter through. Dean's eyes were struggling to adjust to the faint candlelight. It looked like there was a cluster of maybe half a dozen people ahead. 

Dean spoke and the sound of his voice was louder than he thought it would be when it echoed back. He called out to the half shadowed tunnel in front of him.

“Abaddon? Hey, you there?”

Three strides more and Dean stopped dead in his tracks. No longer a rockabilly pin up girl, Abaddon was the personification of grace in a heavy silk gown. She stood taller and a regal air poured out of her. She looked every part the Queen. 

Dean fought an instinctive urge to bow and The Mark flared hot on his arm. He knew it was in reaction to her. 

Abaddon's voice was throaty and deep. She spoke with purpose and authority. 

“My Royal Guard has joined us. Hopefully they'll be your underlings soon, Dean. Eli?”

A dark figure stepped out from the shadows. Ebony skin reflected in the polished silver of his armor.

“Majesty?”

Dean pulled up short, hand reaching across his body to the inside of his jacket. His fingertips were just touching the blade’s handle. Six bulky figures covered in armor formed a half circle behind Abaddon. Well, what looked like Abaddon.

“Welcome to hell, Dean. Take your hand out of your coat. It makes my Guard nervous.”

“Your Royal Guard? What is this? A joke?”

Blowing out a hard breath, Abaddon ignored Dean's snark and pushed on.

“I present Mr. Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Lord Eli. He is the Captain of the Royal Guard. I need a commander, and should you accept, he will answer directly to you.”

Dean nodded awkwardly at Eli when he snapped his body to attention.

Abaddon's mouth pulled up at one corner. Eli's pompous display and Dean's reactions were beyond satisfying. It was obvious Dean was impressed that there knights, real life knights behind her.

“Walk with me, Winchester and I'll explain more. You need to get changed soon. Court is waiting for my return.” 

Dean fell in line beside Abaddon against his better judgement. After half a dozen steps, the clank-scrape of metal against stone made him jump and half turn back. 

“Relax, Winchester. They're here for me, not you. Now, while you're here you're going to need to dress appropriately. I have your clothes ready. There's an alcove just outside the throne room. My Ladies In Waiting will dress you before you join the festivities.”

“Festivities? You planned a party for me? How sweet of you.”

Abaddon touched his arm. Even the way her hands moved when she reached for him was different than how she'd moved before. Before when he knew her - on Earth? The movements were long and elegant. With grace and purpose.

“The party is for me.Don't you know subjects celebrate their Queens return? Hopefully you're hungry. They tend to go all out.”

A double door separated the hall from what Dean imagined be the castle proper. The tall wooden panels were adorned with heavy iron pulls. A woman draped in black silk hoods stood at each side. Only the tips of their noses and matching red lips were visible beneath the shrouds. In perfect unison, they pushed the entryway open. 

The sound of the crowd was muted up ahead. Dean's ears physically pricked up to try and make out words, or even voices. He watched as the cloaked women joined the entourage, taking up space between him and Abaddon, as well as the men behind her. The moved silently along with the macabre parade, hands folded as if in prayer. 

“Ladies, take him to get changed then bring him to me. And Dean? No questions yet.”

“Look, Abad…”

For the first time since they started down this path, Abaddon didn't push forward. She stopped and turned her body toward Dean, chin tilted and eyes raking up and down his form in disapproval. 

Her next several words were clipped and commanding, “'Your Majesty’. 'Your Grace’. 'My Queen’. These are the acceptable forms of addressing me. I'm not a Knight of Hell anymore, Dean. You'd do well to remember that while you're here. Understood?”

Dean tried to answer, but had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Excuse me? Dean, what did I just say?”

“Yes, I understand. Um... My Queen.”

The phrase felt good on his tongue. It made his belly pull tight and his breath burned in his lungs.

“Well done, Winchester. Eli, go announce my arrival please. Nesta? Theodora? You can take him now.”

Eli peeled away from the group and made his way up ahead. Abaddon turned and followed with a flourish, trailed by the remaining five men. The women flanked Dean and led him down a shorter hall to a room separated by a velvet curtain. 

Dean was watching the suits of armor lead their Queen away when the soft voice of Nesta spoke to him.

“Mr. Winchester? Please. Her Grace is expecting you. We can't waste any time.”

Theodora pulled the drape aside and exposed the chamber beyond it. Large windows took up one wall, and four more women stood flanking a standing mirror. Before he could take more than two steps, his jacket was pulled away.

“Whoa! I gotta get, um, my knife. My knife stays with me.”

Dean couldn't just call out his Blade. The First Blade. The very same Blade that he'd impaled their Queen on. Impaled so hard that her feet hadn't even touched the ground. He needed that blade, but he couldn't let on just how much.

“Her Royal Highness knows you have it. She's not afraid of it, Sir Winchester. You'll get it back after you've dressed for court.” It might have been another woman in black speaking to him, but with their heads down he just couldn't be sure. 

Dean tried to duck his head and catch the woman's eyes from under her hood. They all sounded the same. Looked the same. Just blood red lips and alabaster skin. 

Silently, the women undressed him, pausing only to let him unbuckle his own pants. His feet were cold against the tile floor and there was a damp chill in the air that made the fine hairs on his legs stand up. They left his underpants on and brought him soft leather trousers to step into. 

Cinching the belt around the waist of his tunic and shrugging into the waistcoat, the reflection in the mirror looked good. Knee high cuffed boots were being laced up the back of his calves and it felt good. He thought back to LARPing with Charlie on that birthday. 

She was a good kid and part of Dean missed her. She was probably off with Sam somewhere, pouring over books, trying to find a 'cure’ for Dean. Good kid, but dumb.

Just as they promised, there was a sheath on the belt. The blade was pushed into his hand, hilt first. The fit into the soft leather was uncanny, like it had been created just for this moment. Dean couldn't help but wonder if it had been. Was it as old as the blade itself? 

“She waits. Eli will lead you to her. You will be seated at the Queen’s right hand. Follow her lead and you'll please her.” 

Dean couldn't let on how much he wanted to please Abaddon. He fought to keep his composure.

“Is that what I'm expected to do? Please her?” 

Eli pulled back the curtain and motioned for Dean to follow. “She's the Queen and you're in her Kingdom. That's what we all do.”

Dean wasn't going to question the man. Not now. He followed Eli back to the corridor and the bustle of the festivities grew louder as they walked. The distance was shorter than he had thought it would be and he was in awe of the gala he walked into.

The smell of rich foods was heavy in the air. People dressed in heavy velvet and lace spun and danced. At the head of the hall was a thick wooden table covered in platters of meat and pitchers of wine. Dean startled at Eli's booming announcement.

“Mr. Dean Winchester. Bearer of the Mark of Cain.”

The room froze. Both the music and the chatter stopped. The crowd parted, opening a path for Dean to approach their Queen. Abaddon was seated on a massive throne of bones. She was almost reclining, hands draped over the skulls that created the armrests, legs crossed, exposing her thigh up to her hip.

Step by step, Dean made his way to her, his eyes locked on her face. She looked pleased and arched an eyebrow in anticipation. Silently, she told him what was expected. He bowed deep at the waist, but didn't drop his stare.

“My Queen.”

Abaddon nodded in approval and waved to the empty chair next to her. Alone the seat would have been impressive. However, it was dwarfed by hers. 

One of the cloaked ladies appeared next to him and offered her hand, leading him behind the table. After taking his seat, she poured wine into a goblet at his place setting.

Abaddon raised her matching chalice to him and finally spoke.

“Welcome. You're my guest tonight. Celebrate with me.”

When his cup clinked against hers, the crowd cheered and the music swelled again.

#####

Hours passed while he sat at her side. She explained her need for him being there.

“I rule Hell, Dean. I hope you will see just how well it’s running. I delegate duties. I'll show you how I do it if you decide to stay, and if you do,your position here will be to serve me. To protect my rule, from both treason and attack.”

“Treason? Everyone seems to fall in line. Who would you need to worry about?”

Abaddon leaned into him, resting her chin on her palm. There was a placating grin on her face. “I'm surrounded by demons and evil, Dean. Think about it. I rule Hell. When has that been an easy gig? This is the time for questions, so ask away.” 

He racked his brain, mentally making a list. It was rapid fire Q and A once he got started.

“I would lead the Guard?”

“Yes.”

“How much authority?”

“Complete.”

“I protect you?”

“Above everything.”

“I answer to you?”

“Only me.”

“What other needs do I serve.”

That one gave her pause. Dean's face was flushed. Maybe from the wine, maybe from the intimacy of the last question. The image of him submitting to her every whim was a beautiful fantasy. To have him, alone, in her chamber. Maybe on his knees again like that time before. 

“You'll know as they arise.”

Dean took that as his cue to lean back in his chair. Abaddon studied his profile while he surveyed the room. He looked comfortable. Right at home. Posture relaxed and content. He was a study in angles and edges. She spoke quickly to tear herself away.

“I'm going to retire for the evening. Dean, I want you to relax tonight. Sleep if you can. I'll need you bright eyed and perky tomorrow. I'm planning on taking you on a tour of the grounds. Maybe some of the regions if it all goes well.”

“Where do I go? Is someone gonna lead me there, too?”

Abaddon ignored his last question and rose to her full height causing the room to pause again. Everyone seemed to hold their breath and wait for her next move. She gave a perfunctory smile, cold with no real emotion behind it.

“Thank you, all. I love returning to you. You always make me feel at home. Always give me something to come back to. Now, I will take my leave. Please, enjoy.” 

The ladies led her away from the table to another arched entryway and she was gone. Dean was left remembering he forgot to bow like everyone else did. He stood awkwardly at the table until a young man approached, his head tilted in greeting. 

“Mr. Winchester. My name is Colin. I will be your squire for the duration of your stay. Are you ready for me to lead you to your chamber?”

#####

“This is your room. It is where you'll stay as long as you're here. My chamber is adjacent to yours. Anything you need, sir, simply call out for me.”

The bed was about the size of a double, but the frame was made of carved wooden posts taller than Dean was. 

“Collin? This is what you do--bell cap for Abaddon's guests?”

“I work here in the castle, Mr. Winchester. Her Grace uses my skills as she sees fit.”

Collin walked about the room, opening cabinets and wardrobes. Dean halfway paid attention to the suggestions for tomorrow's attire and accepted a sleeping tunic and trousers. 

“I will be waking you up tomorrow. We will be leaving with the Queen at eight in the morning. I suggest you turn in as soon as you can.”

Collin gave a shallow bow and backed out of the room, closing a small door behind him. 

This may not have been what Dean was expecting. It was cool, though. He had to give Abaddon credit for that. No one could say that she was lacking in the detail department. 

After stripping off the layers the women had strapped him into earlier, Dean pulled the linen tunic over his head. It was...blousy. He thought about the bottoms for a second before tossing them into a chair.

The bedspread was heavy and embroidered with gold thread. Pulling it back, the smell of lavender rose up from the sheets. Leaving it sheathed, he slid the First Blade under the pillow. He'd be damned if he was going to be caught by surprise while he was unarmed. His head shook when he thought of the irony of being damned while visiting Hell.

Dean settled in, one leg at a time until he was scooched down enough to pull the covers over his shoulders. 

There wasn't the bounce back of a usual mattress. Dean wondered if it was made of feathers. The way it was just holding him it had to be. Even for a demon who didn't need sleep, he nodded off quickly and had his first night of deep, dreamless sleep in ages. 

#####

“Mr. Winchester. The sun is up. Her Majesty will be ready soon.”

Daylight burned through his eyelids, making him flinch and rub his face with the back of his hand. Collin bustled about the room, pulling back drapes and opening windows.

“The morning air is chilly. I've chosen a coat for you. Have some breakfast, please. You look like the sort of man who enjoys meat.”

Bacon, pastries, and fruit were laid out on a side table near a window. Dean was pulled out of the warmth of the bed by his belly. With a strip of bacon hanging out of his mouth, he turned to the opening door.

Three ladies in waiting entered, each carrying a heavy clay pitcher filled with steaming water. Dean had seen movies. He watched The Tudors. This was bath time.

“Uh, Collin? You can go. Looks like we got this. Right, ladies?” 

Collin nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Dean clapped his hands together and gave his best impish grin to the hooded ladies. 

“Who's first?”

They busied themselves around him. Working in tandem, one lifting his arms so another could pull the tunic over his head, speaking in turns one sentence at a time.

“That's not why we're here, sir.”

“We only serve the Queen.”

“We are sworn to do her bidding.”

Dean's boxers, the only clothes he still had that were his, were pulled down his legs and he stepped out of them. Hot bathing rags were drug over his back and shoulders. He couldn't see the women's faces but they moved like a machine. 

Both arms were held out straight to the sides and he was cleaned from waist to wrists. 

“Would you like us to…?”

The one right in front of him made a gesture to his crotch.

“No! No thank you. I can do that mys- I got it.”

Dean took the rag from her hands and washed between his legs. His eyes rolled at the lack of privacy, but he got the job done. 

He was dressed again for the day. This time with a top coat instead of a vest. A dark grey damask jacket, belted at the waist. Calfskin pants, dyed to match the belt and boots. Everything was tailored to fit perfectly. Not a bunch in the seams or sag anywhere.

They all stood paused when he made his way back to the bed and pulled the Blade out and strapped it to his waist. He made a mental note to ask for a thigh holster for it. If he stayed.

Girl three, maybe two, draped the heavy, fur collared coat over his shoulders. 

“We should go. There's a lot planned for you today.”

With one more primp in the mirror, Dean was ready to see the Queen. 

His Queen. 

#####

“Dean! There you are. Are you ready for your tour of the grounds?”

Sunlight bounced off Abaddon's hair making it shine gold. Coral organza clung to every curve and plane. Her belt was made of heavy silver and peaked just under the center of her breast. Matching silver leaves in clusters pinned her curls to her head. She was statuesque and -- as always -- flanked by her Royal Guard.

Today they were dressed in the same style Dean was. Regal, but not armored like the first time he saw them. 

“Good day, Your Grace.” Dean made a grand gesture and bowed deep. Abaddon's hands clapped with approval at his display.

“Yes! Nicely done, Dean. We will have more privacy today. More freedom with-in my castle walls, if you will. We can start in the gardens and work our way back. Shall we?”

Falling into the role she was asking him to play, Dean offered his arm and lead her through the courtyard to a marble arch. Beyond it were lush lawns and flower beds. Eli and his men meandered just out of earshot.

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh man. Like a rock. Thanks for the breakfast almost in bed. Nice touch.”

Abaddon coiled her arms around his and smiled up at him. “Good. You needed at least one night before I make my offer. I need you clear headed. Don't take this opportunity lightly. Once you swear, you stay. And there's going to be conditions. Rules, really.”

“And I'm -- what? Head of security? Bossing around the Round Table guys, right?”

“That's one thing, yes. Dean? I'm alone. Surrounded by people that dote on me, but I need more.”

Dean stopped at the edge of a pond and watched a pair of swans. He was done with the word-play and hints.

“What do you want from me? Say it, Abaddon. If I don't like your offer, I'm out. You said I could go with no fight. This is fun and all, but c'mon.”

His tone got sharper the longer he spoke. He expected her to get pissed, but she calmly waited for him to finish.

Grabbing his arm to turn his body to face hers, Abaddon allowed the facade she was keeping up to come down where only he could see.

“Remember the day I had you on your knees, Dean? How good did that feel? Looking up at me knowing I could snap your human neck with a turn of my wrist.”

Her green eyes traced the line of his throat where her hands had gripped that day.

“You broke my arm if I remember. Well, you did say my body gave you all kinds of nasty ideas.” There was an empty wickedness when he replied. That demon in his soul pushing forward again. The taste of anger rising in this throat

Humming in agreement, she kept going. Making her case. “I did. And it did. Still does. I know I said things Dean. About infant blood and screaming children. Understand, I was in battle. You had Crowley and I wanted him dead. You were human. A human with the Mark. You had the Mark for one reason, remember? What was that reason?” 

“To kill you. And I thought I did.”

Abaddon pulled her bottom lip in, dragging it between her teeth. She nodded slowly, fire burning in her gut. “Yes. And the look on your face, Dean. All that rage. Now the monster in you is front and center. Both the Mark and the demon have made the perfect machine. You can channel all of it. I can help. Give you release and direct you.”

“What? Control me?” 

Dean felt those regal fingers close around his wrist and pull him closer, laying his palm on her waist. The cinch of the corset was tight.

“You could be mine, Winchester.”


	4. Hell Ain't a Bad Place

“You could be mine.”

Dean took pause. Hers? He could be hers. What the hell that that supposed to mean? Dean didn't belong to anybody. Not anymore. 

“Abaddon...your highness, I'm not up for grabs. I don't think you get it.”

“No, Dean. You don't get it. You love this control you seem to think you have. Methodically thinking out each move you make.”

Red tendrils of hair brushed against her neck when she tilted her head to catch his eye.

“Wouldn't it be nice to just let go? Just uncoil that grip you have on the Mark. You and I both know I'm the only one, in Hell, Heaven or Earth, who can let you do that and keep you safe. Don't you miss it? Miss just being? Miss having that peaceful mind?”

She kept talking, growing more and more excited while she explained the possibilities. 

“You could lead my armies. Keep my factions in line. Spill the blood of anyone who dare think a treasonous thought. However, you'd know you could come to me and lay down that sword and submit.”

And there it was. One word that made Dean's breath stop short. Submit. Submit to her. The Mark burned, waking up to her desires.

“Show me, Abaddon. Show me more.”

#####

After the tour of the garden and manicured lawns. Abaddon brought Dean back to the castle. They sat around a table with Eli and the woman she called her Council. Elisabeth was her name. Dark brown hair pulled tight into a knot on the back of her head to stay ungraspable. 

Dean didn't like her. There was something shifty in the way she positioned herself at the table. 

Maps lay spread out in front of them. Each one lining up with another like a puzzle. Hell was huge. Vast lands that served their purposes. Nothing was wasted.

“How is Crowley in charge of this? We left him behind, right?”

Elisabeth stood at Abaddon's side, across the table from Dean. It was obvious she flexing and trying to show this was her element: discussing territories and boundaries.

“Timeline, Winchester. I know its been years since you experienced it. A month on Earth is a year in Hell. You've been here, what? A couple days? That's given us time to attack, bring the imposter King here and put him in his place.”

“And he's basically a zoo keeper? Well, shit. That's actually pretty awesome.”

Abaddon's smug look of approval urged Dean to keep going. 

“Cain too? He trains the armies, right?”

Eli pulled the map showing Cain's land in front of himself.

“Yes. And you would work hand in hand with him. You'd command the beasts he's trained.”

Dean nodded, mulling it all over in his head. ‘Alistair’ was written in a flourish at the top of another parchment. The memories didn't seem so painful now. However, Dean could feel the rush of blood in his ears at the thought of sharing space with that Demon again.

“Those who defy you go here?” 

Abaddon crossed her legs and leaned back, relaxing from the table. Her pleasure showed in her face in a crooked smile. This part of her plan was coming together nicely.

“If you say they do. No one really dies here, Dean. Infinite torture is so much more exciting, don't you think?”

He did, he really did. He remembered how bad that torture had seemed at the time. Peeling his skin away from his body just to start all over again the next day. 

“When do I see it? I can't make any kind of commitment until I've truly seen the offer.”

“I can take you now, sir. The portals, as her grace calls them, are linked in the belly of the castle.”

Eli was already rising from his chair and making his way to the door. Queens Council tried to follow, but was stopped short with a barked order from Abaddon.

“Elisabeth, you can stay here. Winchester gets full access. Let me know how things went when you get back, Dean? I'll have Collin bring you to my chambers when you're done. I want your impression of how things could be improved.”

“Yeah. I got it. Eli? Lead the way!” 

Even though he tossed a flirty wink at her, Dean still bowed to the Queen of Hell.

#####

You couldn't have smacked the grin off of Dean's face. This was awesome. Real life King Arthur shit right here. Eli led him down a tight spiral staircase lined with torches. Torches! At the bottom he pulled one off the wall to light the way.

“The Queen condensed all of the portals in one place. The ability to plan attacks improved dramatically. One soldier can bounce between battle fields just by entering this room.”

The room was impressive to say the least. Three arches were in a semicircle in the middle of the room. Placed in each of the corners was another. Dean stood, hands on hips, taking it all in while turning in a slow circle. 

“Ok, bud. There's a lot more doorway things than there were pieces to that map. I don't get it.” 

“There's more than just hell represented here, Sir. Abbadon has secured stable passage to several planes.” He gestured to each of the four corners as he named them off. “Heaven. Purgatory. The Empty. Earth. This is how we were able to capture Crowley so quickly.”

“The Empty? What's that?”

“The Empty is older than any of us or any of this. According to The Shadow that controls the Empty, the realm's existence predates everything, even God. Upon death, every angel and demon is sent to the Empty where they sleep for eternity.”

“So when they flame out, Angels and Demons, they just go to sleep?”

“Yes. Forever. That's what The Shadow says, but we don't know unless we experience it, right? 

Sir, I suggest we make short visits to each faction of Hell today. Then you can see how the travel works and I can give you a general overview.”

This was a lot. A lot of information all at once. Dean had been a hunter all of his life. Yet, here he was finding out things Sam didn't even know. He had a leg up on his brother without really trying. Lore seemed to be an ever evolving thing. Street smarts and life experience was winning out over book smarts.

“Cain first, if you don't mind. I have things I've wanted to say to him for a while now.”

The soldier seemed please to finally receive some semblance of an order from Dean. It was only a one-two step and then cool air brushed over Dean’s cheeks. The smell of trees surrounded him while he shielded his eyes from the sudden bright sunlight. 

#####

Their feet went from hard flat stone to soft grassy earth all at once. There were stables and show rings surrounding them. On a hill across the pasture was a barracks with what looked like parade grounds stretching out in front of it. 

Everything was a blur of activity. A cadence of marching orders and stomps of boots could be heard from the grounds on the hill. A crowd of beasts were in one of the show rings surrounding two forms. Cheers and cries of delight matched the roars and wails from within the circle. 

“Alright, break! Go for the knees, lads. Take out the knees, take down the opponent! Ready...FIGHT!”

Dean remembered that voice all too well. Cain. 

“Eli, are those - are those orks?”

The Guard looked good in the sun, shades of mahogany came out in his cheeks that weren't there before. The muscles in the bolt of his jaw were relaxed for once when he laughed at Deans amazement at such a day to day activity in Hell. 

“Yes, Sir Winchester. Anything that has ever been drawn, filmed or dreamed can be conjured here. The orks are useful for frontline battles. Cain uses them as a wall. They’re dumb, but they follow orders to the death. Are you ready to see Cain or do you want to see more of his grounds?”

Dean’s hand fell to the hilt of the Blade on his hip. All of this, this moment right now, he owed to Cain. He was nervous, but he felt a buzz at the thought of seeing the man face to face. 

Of course Cain would remember him, but would he want to see him? Would he be willing to fall in line under Dean's command like Abaddon wanted? Better yet, would Dean be able to lead him? He started forward before he could talk himself out of it. 

“No. No, I’m ready. You comin’? Jesus Christ, man! What is that stench!?”

The smell was horrible. Like a dumpster filled with cow shit and left in the sun for days. His boots slid a bit on the grass when he stopped, almost like he walked into a wall. 

“Orks aren't known for their hygiene, but you don't have to be so rude. Dean! A little birdie told me you’d been seen around the kingdom. Bring it in, son.”

Cain gripped Dean’s right hand and pulled him in for a one arm hug before clapping him on the back. His long hair fell in his face, making him run his hands through it. Grabbing each of Dean’s shoulders, Cain held him at arm's length and looked him over.

“You look good. Really good. I heard what Metatron did. Brought everything to fruition for you didn't it?”

Eli cleared his throat over Dean’s shoulder, making both other men turn to him. 

“Sirs? Should I give you privacy or should I stay?”

Dean gestured randomly out to the media. “No, Eli. You can go do whatever, I guess. Cain and I have some catchin’ up to do. Give me say, an hour?”

A curt bow at the waist was given by Eli. Something Dean thought he could get used to. 

“Yes. One hour. I’ll meet you back here.”

When Dean turned back to Cain there was a smile under that salt and pepper beard. The guy looked like he belonged in this space. Very galant. 

“He’s taking orders from you? Abaddon must have given you absolute power. Eli’s been her bitch for a while now. Good man, though. Good soldier. Excellent with a spear and shield!”

“Cain, I don't even know what’s going on here, man. This is the real deal isn’t it? She’s created a working model of her version of hell. This is the only part I’ve seen outside of the castle so far, but wanted to see you first. This is a lot.”

Cain turned and started walking to the stables. A roar was followed by a scream of pain in the middle of the crowd behind him. Even though Dean’s shoulders stiffened with a start, Cain just kept walking. 

“She’s done a fine job, if you ask me. Hell was never supposed to be run like a business. She's turned it into something more. Something worth fighting for.”

Cain led the way into the stables. The ugliest beasts Dean had ever seen were housed in pens that lined each side of the walkway. 

“So, uh, Cain? You train the Armies right? What's all this?”

Cain turned and made a sweeping motion with his arm, gesturing at the grand scale of it all. 

“This? Well, you see, THIS is the stables for the less civilized of the troops. You saw the orks out there. Nasty sons of bitches. 

Over hear I've got vesps. Like a bat slash badger mix. Totally blind, but they attack anything that makes a noise and eats them alive. They get sent in after the orks, thins out the enemy.

We've got trolls, juggernauts, wendigos, chitters, rugarus. You name it really.”

Cain had let them through the building and out the other side. He clapped Dean on the shoulder and squeezed the back of his neck in a very paternal way. It was comforting if Dean was honest.

“Up there, in the barracks, are vamps, ghouls, wraiths, shapeshifters and the like. Anything that can be housed in a somewhat civilized way.”

“This is something else, Cain. It really is. Ya know what Abaddon wants? She wants me to lead all of this. You ok doing that? Following my command?”

The older man gripped Dean's elbow and turned him so they stood face to face. 

“Look, here. You carry the Mark, and you carry it well. Don't ask permission, Dean. Take command! You don't owe anyone but that flame haired temptress in the castle anything. Are you here for good? To stay?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and kicked at the ground absently.

“You can tell me, lad. What side are you leaning to?”

Dean held up one finger at Eli, who was coming down the hill from the barracks to meet them. The Guard nodded and stilled before turning away, constantly surveying the land. 

“I haven't decided. Seriously though? Seeing this as at least opened me up to consideration. Look, Cain? You gave me something that day at your cabin. I didn't know how much I wanted it until I stopped fighting it.”

Cain pulled Dean in by the forearm, his hand covering the Mark.

“Ah, yes. That hot spot can feel really good on your arm. Just remember you're the host.”

A curt nod was shared between them before Dean joined Eli, following him through an arch of ivy. 

He was snow blind when they went from the field back to the castle. Eli gave him a moment or two to adjust before turning to the other portals. 

“Where to next, sir?”

Dean felt something beyond rage when he looked at Alistair's arch. He could save it for last, but he needed to get it over with. Even though the animal he was carved into served him well now, it was excruciating then. Alistair had taught him the art of torture. Showed him how good it could feel doling it out. That still haunted a tiny part of his mind. 

“Let's do that one, Eli. We'll rip that fucking band aid off.”

#####

There was no unfamiliar feel of sunlight and smell of forest this time. His senses had experienced all of this before. It was pitch black and somehow sufficiently lit. Screaming, begging cries pierced through silence and turned his stomach. The copper smell of blood was so thick Dean could taste it. When he heard his name being singsonged behind him and it took everything he had to turn slowly, keeping a firm grip on his control.

“Dean, Dean, Dean… So nice of you to come visit after all this time. I would have set up a table for you if I'd known you were coming back.”

“Alistair, may I present-”

“Shut up, Guard. I know who he is. We go way back. Right, Winchester?”

Dean was moving before it registered. His hand gripped Alistair by the throat and lifted him off the floor. 

“You will not speak to my command like that. You will obey. Plain and simple. If Eli speaks, it's because I ordered him to. If I ordered him to, it’s in to interest of the Queen. Queen, then me, then Eli. Say it!”

Alistair shook like a rag doll under the force of Dean's grip. Even being mostly choked off, his voice still sounded the way rotten fruit smelled. Pungently sweet and sickening.

“Her Grace. You. Him.”

Alistair crumpled on the floor when Dean dropped him. He covered his throat and spat ragged coughs at the ground. He didn't look at anyone as he stood and straightened the leather butchers apron over his chest, but there wasn't any doubt the words he spoke were meant for Dean.

“So. YOU'RE the one she's pulled from Earth. You know, I never imagined you would amount to anything once that Angel laid his hand on you. Seems his brand is gone and I smell another. I can hear it sizzle underneath all that pomp she's dressed you up in.”

Dean wasn't surprised that the Mark was calling out right now. Every fiber of his being was screaming out to rip Alistair in half. Eli cleared his throat, the small gesture bringing Dean back to focus.

“You torture souls. That's what you've always done and that's what you'll continue to do. You'll torture the ones I tell you to and you'll tell me if someone wants to step off the rack and swear their allegiance to the Queen. Are we clear? I have other shit to do and I'm over slumming it here with you.’

Even though Alistair bowed with a flourish, Dean could tell he was being mocked.

“Of course, Sir Winchester. My regards to the castle.”

Eli stepped in behind Dean when he passed, noting the black of his eyes as he went. 

#####

“Sir?”

Dean could feel Eli's eyes boring into his skull behind him, but all he could think about was getting this ire under control. Ire. That was the word, the one stronger than rage.

“I'm good. Just--just have bad history with the guy. Take me to Crowley. Does he know I'm here?”

Eli smirked a tiny bit. First time Dean had seen a break in the stoic facade since he'd met the man. 

“No. When the Queen sent us to capture him, she made it very clear not to mention you. He's been, what's the phrase...'salty’ since he was assigned to the breeding grounds.”

Dean bent forward at the waist laughing at the word 'salty’ coming out of Eli. 

“Dude, that's better than Queen Elizabeth saying 'turd’. Whoo! Made me dizzy! Lead the way, Captain.”

#####

“All of these bloody animals need to get in their bloody pens and shag! I'm expected to have a constant flow of beasts and monsters for Abbadon or else its a shit show for Ole Crowley!”

Dean and Eli stood in a shadowed clutch of trees just outside dilapidated farmhouse and its rundown field. They watched Crowley stomp back and forth, slipping occasionally in the ankle high muck that was a mixture of rich earth, urine and manure. 

“Who's he talking to, Eli?”

The tall dark skinned man stood with arms crossed but leaned into Dean So that he wouldn't be heard by the angry Scotsman. 

“There's no one here but him. He does this all day, everyday. The hellhounds obey, but they are used to him. He can't even get the rabbits to mate, Sir. We've got three pregnant mares that can't be used until they've given birth and last we checked he lost them. Its a train wreck, really.”

That was just pitiful if truth be told. Dean had seen enough.

“Hey! Farmer Fergus!”

Crowley made to turn in the direction of the voice, but he moved too fast and ended up flat on his back. 

“Fucking hell, man. Get up. This is just sad. C'mon.” Dean held out a hand and Crowley's face was slack with shock. He lost his balance again when Dean used his overcoat to wipe the filth off his hand. 

“What the hell are you doing here? And dressed like...why are you...have you been...are you…?”

“For fuck sake, Crowley. Use your words. I'm here to see how things are running. Looks like you're having some trouble?”

From Dean to Eli and back again, Crowley's eyes couldn't figure out where to land.

“You're working with them? For HER?! Oh, now I've seen it all! This is fucking bollocks. I'm down here, in what was MY Hell, laying out kibble and changing litter boxes and this Ken doll gets dressed up and sent to check on me…”

Crowley's voice faded out when he turned and started his trek back out to the field.

“He's pacing again, Eli. I'll talk to Her Grace about it, but I want some help down here for him. I don't like the limey son of a bitch either, but the joints gotta run smoothly if I'm going to be leading anything. Ya feel me?”

Eli, again, fell in line behind Dean as they made their say back to the passage to the castle.

“Sir Winchester, you're making decisions as if you're staying. I'll need word from the Queen to move forward with any changes.”

“Yeah, well, lemme give her the big news, alright? I need to see her tonight anyway.”

Eli didn't bother to hide his smile of approval when Dean looked back over his shoulder.


	5. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huge gap in posting. I know and I am sorry. Stupid adulting constantly getting in the way of anything creative!

Collin was waiting outside the portal room when Dean and Eli emerged. He took Dean's coat and changed his boots to soft velvet slip-on loafers. This was something Dean could get used to. Being waited on hand and foot, someone taking care of him for a change. 

"I'll take these to be cleaned and treated, Sir. The breeding grounds have an odor that will linger if you aren't careful. Is there anything else you need before retiring for the day?" 

"No, Collin. I need to speak to the Queen, but I'd like to clean up first. Eli, we need to meet tomorrow to go over plans and staffing changes. Lunch time, preferably. Bring your men with you.They’re gonna need to know the new chain of command and I want it to start immediately."

Eli's body snapped to attention, eyes bright with the knowledge of what Dean was about to tell Abaddon. He gave a curt nod and turned, disappearing into another hallway.

#####

After quickly washing his body, Dean changed into casual clothing. A sleeping tunic, decidedly less blousey this time and muslin trousers that laced at the crotch.

Collin led him to the doorway of what he called the Queen's residence and briefed him quickly. 

"The ladies will be there, but I won't. One will be assigned to you. That's who you can ask to get you anything you may need. That's also who's going to bring you back to your chambers if and when you're ready."

Dean studied Collin's knowing smile for a couple beats and dismissed him. "Either way, be at my chambers first thing. Tomorrow is going to be a big day and I want to get started early."

“One question, Sir Winchester. Am I to understand you will be staying on. It will be nice to have a permanent assignment. If you’ll have me, that is.”

The door opened before Dean could answer and the squire turned and left at the same time. The hooded figure in the entryway stepped aside and let Dean enter. 

"Sir Winchester, my name is Laura. I will be at your service tonight. I've prepared you a place at the Queens table. I'm sure you're famished after your day."

Laura stepped in front of Dean and led him to the inner chambers. Stout candles burned on flat surfaces everywhere. Drapes of heavy damask were hung from ceiling to floor. There was a dressing screen in the corner, to Dean's right, that the remaining Ladies surrounded.

All at once, they stepped away and he saw her. The only sound he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. For the first time he truly understood what ‘breathtaking’ meant because his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. 

Her hair hung loose past her shoulders and covered part of her face while she looked down, buttoning the bodice of an olive green dressing gown. It flared open at the waist and pooled at her feet. Cotton the color of sand swirled beneath the robe. It was a contradiction, how modest it all was, compared to the ornate fabrics and thigh exposing slits he'd seen her in so far. 

Abaddon’s face lit up when she saw him staring when there with his mouth hanging open. She’d chosen this outfit, this dinner and this ambiance for a reason, and it was working. 

"Good evening, Dean. I thought we'd take dinner in chambers tonight. The privacy would be nice for a change, yeah?"

Dean's voice was stuck in his throat. Abaddon was an absolute vision. The way the fabric hung, she appeared to float across the room to a small round table. She took the seat closest to the fireplace, leaving the one directly across from her for Dean.

"Join me? Let's hash out all the details of what you saw today. I can't wait to hear your thoughts." She waved her hand absently at the Ladies and they immediately busied themselves bringing food and drink to the table. 

Dean watched Laura tend to his plate and chalice and nodded his thanks when she was done. 

"Sir Winchester, if there's nothing else, I will retire to the foyer. Just call if I can be of assistance." She stood silent until Abaddon dismissed her colleagues, and as a unit they disappeared through a draped arch.

"You really dig this don't you? Just down here living for the pomp and circumstance of it all." Dean spun the fork of his place setting between his thumb and forefinger. "You've got things pretty locked down, but they could run better."

Abaddon's eyebrows shot up and the corners of her mouth turned down in surprise. "So, you have ideas already! Good! I understand you visited Cain first. Tell me." She popped a bit of cheese into her mouth with her fingers and rested her chin on her hands, giving him all of her attention. 

"Cain knows what he's doing. The guy is a mastermind when it comes to battle, but I knew that. If, and it's a big if, I stay I want time to train with him. I can kill anything, but there are weapons here I've never worked with. I need to be proficient at them all. Can't defend the Queen if I can’t do battle." Dean tipped his chalice at her and drank deeply. The taste of berry wine was sweet and the liquid was cool. 

"Done. And Crowley? Was he happy to see you? I've been told he's been down there yelling at everyone and no one since he got here."

Getting excited to bring his ideas to the table, Dean started serving up dinner to both of them. Some kind of roasted bird with potatoes and vegetables. He wasn't going to serve himself any of the greens, but then Abaddon clicked her fork on the serving dish.

"I need you well fed and healthy. A few vitamins won't kill your image, Dean."

He wanted to argue and blow her off, but her expression told him she wasn't going to back down. The smile that tugged at her lips when he took a helping did something to Dean. He felt satisfaction knowing he'd pleased her.

"So, Crowley." He groaned at the subtle flavor of summer squash complimented by fresh herbs before continuing. "No one likes to see him suffer more than I do, but it's affecting the Kingdom. He's losing animals, can't get our food supply to breed. There's no way he can do all of that alone, even if he was good at it. Crowley needs a staff."

"He is a good business man though, Winchester. We need to make sure this 'staff' can't be used against us. Nothing too smart or too strong. Goblins and gnomes?"

Dean covered his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing around a mouth full of meat. "Hey, he could be taller than his charges for once!"

Abaddon's laugh was smooth and deep. It sent a chill under every inch of Dean's skin. 

"You can head to Purgatory tomorrow. Capture what we need and deliver them to his filthy yards. I may go with you. Just to see him squirm. And finally, Alistair. How did that go?"

Dean pushed what was left of his meal around on the plate with his fork. Thinking of Alistair made him feel a burning cold at the base of his skull. 

"He, uh- he stepped up to Eli. Tried to challenge him."

Abaddon crossed her arms on the table, leaning into Dean. "Did you squash that? He needs to toe the line. I don't care who he thinks he used to be."

"Yeah. I did." Dean pushed his plate to the side and mirrored her pose. Squaring off at the shoulders he locked eyes with her. He wanted to watch every nuance of expression when she heard what was coming next.

"I gave him the chain of command. Eli, then me, then my Queen. I'll stay, your Grace. I'm yours."

Absolute smoothness fell across her features and she rose, gesturing to the floor at her feet. "Swear it. On your knee."

Dean's body moved because it wanted to. The Mark was practically singing when he rested his right forearm across his leg. 

"I swear, your Grace. I swear my loyalty to you and your Kingdom. Everything I am is yours."

Several painfully tense moments ticked by before Abaddon took Dean's chin in her hand and pulled until he was staring up at her. A raspy moan escaped him and his eyes fluttered shut when she accepted with two words.

"Good boy."

Dean lurched forward a bit when she let go of his face to turn and walk back to the table. She sat gently in her chair, the crackling fire pulsated light that warmed the space around her. Abaddon took her chalice in her left hand and crooked a finger on her right at him.

He was absolutely drawn to her. Hearing that tiny bit of praise woke a need in him he didn't know was there. 

"What's next, your Grace. What do you need from me. Just say it and it's yours." 

All of this pleading fell from his mouth on its own. Thoughts of defending her, pleasing her, serving her raced through his mind. He settled in on his knees between her feet, head on her lap.

Abaddon ran the very tips of her fingernails through his hair and shushed pleas down to wimpers. The heat of his breath on her thigh was distracting, but not enough to let this moment go to waste. 

"You don't have to be strong all of the time, my beautiful warrior. This can be yours, too. Time like this...soft and vulnerable? I can give you this forever. Just you and me."

The demons breath shuddered and he lifted his head so he could look up at her face. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lower lip dragging between her teeth. 

"You're so pretty like this, Dean. So eager. Such a good boy you are."  
There it was again. 'Good boy.' When Abaddon palmed his cheek, he turned his face to kiss her wrist. All the while, his eyes pleading for permission.

"Submit to me. You can have it all. Power of your title. Trust in my chambers."

"Please…" The usual deep timber was gone. His voice was no more than a murmur against her skin.

Abaddon leaned into his space, gripped the skin on the back of his neck, and pulled his face to hers. If she were to lick her lips right now, she was close enough that she would taste his.

"Please, what?"

Every last bit of self preservation spilled out of Dean's skin. This is what he wanted. Needed.

"Please, my Queen." 

#####

Dean was walking beside the Queen as they meandered through the residence. It was larger than any home Dean had ever seen by itself. The smooth cognac lilt to her voice echoed off the walls of the hallway she led him down. 

“I need to bring something to your attention before it’s too late. Now, I know that you have a, shall we say, history with hellhounds, Dean. But there’s an awful lot of them here. They’re used for hunting, security and battle mostly.”

“Makes sense that they’re here. Location is kinda in their name, ya know?” Dean just wanted to touch Abaddon. The curve of her neck disappearing into the soft collar of her dressing gown left him imagining how soft the porcelain flesh was. If he would feel shivers under his lips if he ghosted them there. 

“Yes, but I’m the only one who keeps them as companions. I need you to meet Gunnorah. She needs to get your scent and associate it with me...Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean had froze in his tracks a few paces back. A hellhound? As a pet? 

“No, your Highness. I’m not ok. You have a pet hellhound? And I’m supposed to just let her sniff my ass? You know what happened to me. How am I supposed to even--ugh!”

“Come here.” Dean couldn't help it, he was at her beck and call. He stared at the wall over her shoulder, not wanting her to read the fear in his eyes. 

“I’ve asked you before, if you remember, if you trusted me. If you’re willing to take the knee for me, you have to trust me implicitly. Do you, Dean?”

He had to take a deep breath and close his eyes before he could answer her.   
“Look, my Queen. I know what I said and I know what you expect. I’m just asking you to understand…”

“And I do. I’m going to push every boundary you have, Winchester. Push you just to the edge of your comfort zone. Just enough to make you let go and let me take over. Here’s the first test. She’s right in there.” Abaddon gestured to a huge door across the hall. “Come meet my baby?”

His green eyes flicked from the door to her and back again. He mustered up a small nod, but she’d want him to say it. “Yes, I trust you.”

"I know you do. Oh! I should tell you, hellhounds take their true form here. She'll be bigger than you can imagine. She listens well though, it's going to be ok."

Dean was afraid for the first time since Crowley came to claim his body. This wound was deep and had never fully scarred over. 

The click of the door latch was as loud as a gunshot in Dean's head. Abaddon held out her hand, waiting to lead him into an unknown.

"I've got you, Dean. It'll be fine."

The hunter tuned demon put every bit of trust he had into his Queen's literal hand and let her pull him through the door. The room was deeply shadowed, lit by spaced clustered candles. He couldn't make out any definitive features to the room. It seemed mostly bare with another door opposite the one Abaddon had led him through. 

"Stand here. I'll bring her to you." Dean swallowed hard and gave one quick nod when she dropped his hand. 

He heard it before he saw it. The stone floors rumbled with her growl. A scrape of claws on slate came from somewhere on Dean's right. Abaddon was barely visible anymore, just a silhouette against the candle light.

"Gunnorah, baby, come here. Good mama's girl."

The hound was massive. Abaddon's head barely met her jaw. She started turn toward Dean, but went back to approaching her master when she heard her name. Dean could have sworn she wagged her tail a bit when Abbadon reached up to scratch at either side of her head. It had to easily be three feet across.

Gunnorah's heavy jowls shook when she huffed against Abaddon's shoulder. The Queen spoke soft words of encouragement that visibly calmed her pet.

"Such a good pup you are, huh? Protecting your momma. You have to meet someone. He's a friend. Over here now."

Abaddon's arm was lifted as high as her ear to grip the iron ring that dangled from the thick leather collar around Gunnorah's neck. Dean tried to swallow down fear, but his mouth was infinitely dry. His hands hung in tight fists at his side while he fought the urge to run. 

Gunnorah followed Abaddon's lead and started at Dean's feet. She sniffed and huffed her way to his knees before Abaddon spoke again, but she didn't praise the dog. Her words were for him. 

"You're doing so good, Dean. Let her get to know you. Don't move. Don't speak. Just let her do her thing."

He did jump a little and couldn't hold back a grunt when a nose the size of his fist bumped against his crotch. He kept his composure when the 'sniff, sniff, huff' sounds made their way up his torso to his neck. If the hellhound was going to kill him, this would be the moment it happened. Instead, she rose to her full height, nose to nose with him. 

Gunnorah gave one last huff right in Dean's face, strong enough to flutter the light material of the shirt that stuck to the sweat that had broken out across his shoulders. She turned to nose at Abaddon's chin before returning to the corner she came from to begin with. 

Dean exhaled in one huge push and his knees threatened to give out, but Abaddon's smile grounded him again. 

"I'm so proud of you, my Knight. So brave." He felt himself give over to her when she framed his head in her hands. "You did just what I told you to. Did it feel good?"

Dean realized it did. The only reason he had just gone through that was because Abaddon told him it would be ok and he'd believed her. 

"Yes, your Grace."

"You could feel like this every time your with me. Would you like that?" She pulled his hands hands to her waist and stepped into his space. "Let me push you? Let you please me?"

This was suddenly everything Dean wanted for the rest of his existence. To feel this same feeling. To have Abaddon look at him this way, with so much pride.

"Please, My Queen."

#####

Dean was being led through yet another door. This one opened into Abaddon's bed chambers. A low fire burned in a fireplace on opposite walls, lighting the room from each side. On the wall between was a bed big enough for half a dozen people to sleep comfortably. Heavy iron made the frame and rose up to cradle the tulle that made up the canopy.

Three days ago, Dean would have grabbed a woman, bent her over the mattress and fucked her hard and fast without a second thought. 

This wasn't just a woman though. This was Abaddon, Queen of Hell and Commander of its Knights, and he felt himself waiting for her next test.

She watched him standing there, waiting in the middle of the room, while she fussed about a tall round table next to cushions laying on the floor. He had to blink his way out of a daze when she called his name. 

"Dean? Come over here. I need to explain what you can expect. Rules if you will."

Dean's usual swagger bubbled up when he made his way across the room. "Heh. You mean, like, sexy rules?"

The annoyance on her face was clear, but when he dared to wink at her, it plain pissed her off.

"Don't forget who I am, Winchester. My rule is everywhere. I won't go where you can't, but you will respect me."

That look on her face, disappointment giving to anger and back again, Dean knew he would give anything to never have her look at him like that again. 

"Of course -- my Queen. Forgive me?" Dean's hands hung awkwardly at his side, like he didn't know what to do with them.

"There's nothing to forgive, just things to help you understand. I have, shall we say, levels...of what I want to see from you. You'll never be in this room alone. If I call you to my bed, you prepare at level one. Knees on a pillow, silk gag in your mouth, hands clasped in front of you, ankles crossed. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, your Grace." Green eyes danced over the items on the table. A long, black, silk scarf. That must have been the gag she wanted. His dick twitched, waking up to the thought of being submissive to her. 

"Sometimes, we will go to level two. Your knees, bare to the floor. Same soft gag. Hands unbound, but clasped in front of you. Ankles crossed. However, this time, this will be over your eyes." Her red tipped fingers plucked up a light burgundy scarf, nearly see through. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, your Grace." Being unbound and still for her, unable to see or speak. The pull in his belly was strong when he thought of it. 

"Finally, when you're ready, level three. Knees bare, legs spread and ankles uncrossed. Hands bound at the wrist behind you. The black scarf over your eyes. And this…" Abaddon held up a stiff leather gag, almost like a horse bit, for Dean to see. "...between your teeth."

With his now hard cock straining against the soft muslin of the sleeping trousers, Dean counted to ten before he answered with the phase he knew should come next. 

"I trust you, your Grace."

"I know you do. Dean. All of this," her hand waved over the table, "it's for me as much as you." 

Dean was still standing there, dick hard, staring openly at the Queen of Hell, surrounded by tools of bondage. "I -uh- I don't know what comes next. Do we do this...well, should I get on my knees?"

"No. Not tonight, Dean. We have a lot to take care of tomorrow. I can give you a gift, so to speak, tonight. Food for thought, yeah?"

Abaddon's fingers popped the buttons, one by one, on her dressing gown. She let it fall slowly from her shoulders, dragging over her upper arms. The sleeping dress was sleeveless with a high neckline. She walked slowly, but with purpose to the bed, giving plenty of time for Dean to take on her naked skin in the backless shift.

"I promise you, you won't see me like this again." She laid the yards of green fabric across the corner of the bed. "Remember I'm still the one in charge, though. I'm allowing it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my Queen."

"I know you do." She'd made her way back to him now, standing toe to toe in the middle of the room. "Dean, do you want to submit to me?"

Dean thought he might pass out. His knees were locked and every spare ounce of blood seemed to be rushing go his groin to fill his already painfully hard cock even more.

"Fuck yes. I mean, yes, my Queen."

With one foot, she caught the edge of a cushion and pulled it between them on the floor. "Good boy. Now, give me your hands?"

He held them out in front of himself, palms up. Abaddon took them one at a time and pressed a soft, chaste kiss in each one. Then, pushing them against the hem of Dean's shirt, she guided them up his body until he was holding it just below his chest. 

"Don't move these. Spread your feet. Shoulder width." Dean's face burned with blush when she praised him again. "Such a good boy, Dean. Now, don't move."

He almost spoke his understanding, but no words. Instead, Dean set his jaw and made himself comfortable in this new stance. There was the smallest part in his lips when she steadied herself on his hips and lowered herself to the cushion between them. Kneeling at his feet. 

Abaddon started unlacing Dean's pants, wasting no time. Her intentions were obvious and he waited for her next instructions. He found himself standing in the middle of a room in a castle, holding his shirt out of the way, pants pulled down to mid-thigh and his dick inches from the lips of the Queen of Hell.

"Dean, what am I expecting?" He blinked a couple times, trying to decide if he should answer. "You're so obedient. I like it, but you can speak if I speak to you." 

"Don't move and don't…" Absently Abaddon stroked his cock, smirking when she saw what it did to him. "Jesus...don't talk."

"That's right. And…" The soft flat of her tongue ran the length of the vein that pulsed near Dean's hip bone. "What do I expect you to do?"

"Submit to my Queen. Your Grace, please. Let me submit?"

She took him all at once. Loosening her jaw to give him access to the back of her throat, she wrapped her hands around the back of his thighs, just below the crease of his ass. 

It was too much at once and Dean let his head fall back. In a split second he felt a subtle slap to the sensitive flesh Abaddon was holding on to. Looking back down at her, he locked eyes and the message there was clear as a bell. She wanted him to watch.

Her fingernails dug in slightly when she started pulling him into her, fucking her mouth with his body. Every time she pulled away, she pressed her tongue up against the shaft, adding to the friction. 

Keeping upright was a struggle. Keeping his eyes open was a struggle. Not moving his hands to tangle in that red hair was a struggle. Fighting through all of it took concentration that made sweat bead at his hairline and trickle down past his forehead. 

He wasn't using words, but he wasn't quiet either. Staccato pants and grunts matched her rhythm. When she swallowed him down a growl he hadn't ever heard from himself bubbled up and he saw satisfaction in her face. Abaddon's lips stretched even further and she pulled him into her faster.

Dean's fingers coiled and pulled at the bunched material in his hands. Threads snapped and gave way with each breath between clenched teeth. Everytime he felt the bump of the back of her throat, he couldn't stop a grunt at the same time. With each grunt there was a growl behind it, almost harmonizing. 

With every exhale, Dean's cheeks puffed out. He was so close to coming right down her throat, but he didn't know if he should. He didn't know if that would please her. Like she was reading his mind, Abaddon pulled away and licked a stripe up the underside of Dean's cock. 

"Come for me, Winchester. But don't say a word." 

Just as she sucked all of him back in her mouth, Dean's gasps turned to shouts and behind each was a guttural roar. His vision changed to a dark haloed tunnel like it always did when his eyes flicked to black. When the last pulse milked him dry, Abaddon finally let him go. 

He fell to his knees and clumsily collapsed into her lap, fighting to slow down his breathing and control his heart.

"Such a good boy. My good boy." Abaddon cooed words of praise over him, like a blessing, over and over again. She smiled when her fingers grazed his ear and he shivered. "My sweet boy."

Dean's voice was low and soft when he finally found his words again. 

"My Queen."


	6. Seek and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Real life being what it is, my beta has taken some self care time. Any errors in this chapter are mine.
> 
> I'm going to try to get back to the weekly postings. If Ms Huffman could stop killing me with photo shoots of her in fantasy cospay posing with hawks, I could focus. 
> 
> Just kidding. I love her. 
> 
> What do you guys think so far?

That night, Abaddon held Dean in her arms. Letting him rest and recover was more satisfying than she’d thought it could be. The submission to let her do what she wanted to his body went exactly as she had imagined it would, but then this happened. 

The heavy weight of him on her tongue was exquisite and seeing him restrain himself because she expected it from him was her plan all along. However, his collapse to the floor and his need to be close to her came out of nowhere. 

Abaddon had never dominated someone sexually before. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she liked it. It felt good to cradle this man, to let him breathe and sweat and slow his heart while she combed her fingernails through his hair. It made her heart swell when he looked up from her lap, eyes asking for approval. 

“You did so good, Dean. Just what I asked. Such a good boy you are.” With each sentence he burrowed deeper into her lap, fingers clutching at the fabric of her gown. “Did you know that? You were perfect, my warrior. My sweet hunter.”

“Tell me what you need, my Queen. I’ll do whatever you ask. Tell me how to please you.” Dean got to his knees to be eye to eye with Abaddon. “Let me touch you. Please? Please, your Grace.”

One hand on the floor steadied him, but the other hovered just over her cheek, waiting for permission to touch her. She took his face in both of her hands and stilled him. 

“Tonight was everything I needed, Dean. Now, I want to you to go to chambers and sleep. Plan out the mission for tomorrow. I’ll be going to Purgatory with you…”

“It could be dangerous, my Que…”

“I know. I know, but you’ll be there. And I trust you.” Her eyes locked on his, she had to make him understand what she said next. It would be the foundation of their partnership. “Just like you trust me to take care of you in this room, I trust you to take care of me everywhere else. I trust that you’ll give your life to protect me.”

“I will, your Highness. Nothing will hurt you. Ever.”

Abaddon pressed a soft kiss to his lips, dry from the effort and strain from earlier. 

“I trust you, Sir Winchester.”

#####

Dean dressed and let himself be led to the foyer just outside Abaddon’s bed chambers. The Lady Laura waited there for him and ushered him to the hallway that would take him back to his own room. With one last look over his shoulder, he watched the door, with his Queen behind it, swing closed.

Laura was silent as she glided over the stone of the hallway. The passages were vacant and silent as they went. All the while, he went over the evening again in his mind. Abaddon, the Queen of Hell, on her knees. Taking all of him into her mouth and staring up at him, willing him to keep his eyes on her. The growl of the Demon he’d become making itself known when she sucked him dry. Not having to be anything other than himself to save the feelings of anyone else. She had given him the freedom he’d been needing. 

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth when they approached Collin, sleeping in a chair outside of Dean’s room. Dean had to run a thumb over his lower lip to wipe the grin away. Nodding, he dismissed Lady Laura and she hurried back the way they came. 

Bumping the leg of the chair with his toe was enough to startle Collin awake. The squire looked around in a daze before he realized who was there and what was happening. 

“Sir Winchester! My apologies! I truly didn't think you’d come back tonight. Please excuse my inattentiveness.” Collin was on his feet and bending at the waist to show respect. 

“Hey, it’s alright. No harm, no foul. I need to sleep, but bring Eli to me for breakfast tomorrow in the map room. Tell him to gather his Guard. We'll need them for the mission."

Collin led Dean into his chambers, busing himself with preparing clothing for the next day. 

“After breakfast, the Queen will be joining us in the Portal Room and we will be going to Purgatory to gather a staff for Crowley in the stock yards. I’ll need something appropriate for that. Oh, you know what I’d like, Collin? A thigh holster for my blade. I don't like the way it fits on my hip.”

Collin shook his head and his face softened when he delivered what he thought was bad news. “I’m sorry, sir. Only the Squire of a Knight can make that demand. I can deliver your request, but the Queen will have to approve it.”

Dean poured a chalice of wine and held it up to Collin in salute. 

“Well, you have your permanent post, Collin. Do the job.”

This time, Collin bent deep at the waist showing reverence. “Sir Winchester, it will be my honor to serve you. Thank you. In the meantime, your shirt. It seems to have been torn somehow. I’ll take it away.”

Dean snatched it away from his squire’s hand. The hem was, indeed, torn. He’d torn it when he was restraining himself from resting his hand on the back of Abaddon’s head and fucking into her mouth. 

“No, it's fine. I’ll wear it tonight. It’s...it’s not a big deal, ok?”

“As you wish. I’ll deliver your request to Sir Eli’s squire and make sure breakfast is scheduled to be delivered. If there’s nothing else?”

“That will be all, Collin. You're excused.”

When Dean fell asleep, his fingers trailed over the pulled fabric and frayed threads against his belly. 

#####

Dean started his first day in Abaddon's court with a spring in his step. Collin had brought him his holster and the blade rested securely on his right thigh. This tunic was deep green, apparently the color of his station in the Kingdom. Wrist guards of burgundy tanned leather strapped over the sleeves and a chainmail cowell sat heavy on his shoulders. 

"Sir Eli and his guard are waiting for you. I've prepared for your departure from the portal room with light armor. It's the best we can do until you see the blacksmith. I sent word that I needed to speak with him."

"Yeah, plan that." Dean couldn't help but grin like a twelve year old the day before Christmas. A suit of armor, holy crap.

They reached the map room and Dean had to take pause when the Royal Guard rose to attention with a clatter of chairs. Eli's smile was broad and proud as he announced Dean with title.

"Sir Dean Winchester. Bearer of the Mark of Cain. Wielder of the First Blade. Private Guard to the Queen of Hell."

Dean felt a blush of pride when the others, Collin included, responded to the call.

"Sir Winchester!"

"Alright. Alright." He waved them off even though he loved the attention. "Enough of that. Collin, could you grab me a plate? We need to get started, fellas. Goin' hunting today. I talked to the Queen and she agreed to getting Crowley a staff, but he's smart. Nothing but safe choices there. Gnomes and goblins she said?"

"We don't have any of those here." Eli spoke around a large bite of sausage that left a shine of grease on his chin. "Going to have to go to Purgatory to get those."

Collin placed a platter of eggs, sausage and potatoes in front Dean. He picked up a fork while the squire filled his cup with fresh grapefruit juice. 

"Yeah, that's what me and her talked about last night. She's coming with, by the way."

"Sir, please don't think I'm questioning you, but…" 

Dean had never heard any other members of the guard speak. "But you are. What's your name?"

The kid couldn't be more than twenty or twenty-one. "My name is David, Sir. I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn." The shock of red hair seemed to hide his eyes on purpose when he stared down at the table.

"No, no you didn't. You guys know more about this place than I do. You all are familiar with how it runs. I need your input and this is the place to do it. When we're gathered here, please, speak freely. David, what's your question?"

"You want to take the Queen to Purgatory, sir? It's not always safe there and never predictable. I'm not sure we can keep her safe."

Dean chewed a forkful of crispy potatoes thoughtfully before responding. "You're right about all of that. But, see, I will be there. I protect the Queen before anything else. That's my job."

David was the first to nod in agreement and each of the four remaining guards nodded in turn when Dean acknowledged them. 

Eli brought the conversation back to the task at hand by pushing his plate away and using the parchment laid out on the table to draw a diagram with a coal pencil. 

"Just beyond the portal, we have carts and horses. Guards are stationed here, here and here." He marked each station with an 'x'. "Gnomes live on the outskirts of the forest, so they'll be easy to capture. However, goblins have a cluster maybe two miles in. Do we know how many we need?"

Dean pushed his plate to join Eli's, and they were both taken away by Collin. "Maybe ten goblins and two dozen gnomes. Is that going to be a problem?"

The Guard shook their heads and murmured in unified agreement with Dean's assessment. 

"Good! Collin, call for the Queen. We will be ready in the Portal Room when she gets there." Everyone stood when Dean did, gathering their weapons and slapping each other on the back. "They always get excited like this, Eli?"

"Oh! No, Sir Dean. You've gotten them all riled up. I think they've grown weary listening to my droning on and on. New life being pumped into them seems to do some good! You're the perfect person to lead this battalion. That much I'm sure of." 

"Ok then." Dean didn't try to hide the prideful puff to his chest. He'd found his calling. "Let's get to work."

#####

The Portal Room was a buzz of activity with all six members of the Royal Guard and their squires. Dean and Collin were off to the side alone. 

A chest plate had been strapped on his broad torso, plain and devoid of the crest the others wore on theirs. 

"Hey, Collin? Is my armor going to have that thing in the chest?"

Collin looked over his shoulder at the other men, checking the detailed embellishment of a stallion and rider. "The Guards crest? No, sir. Your armor will bear the crest of the Private Guard. Probably similar, but it will be distinctly different. The Queen will choose for you."

Dean took the helmet, brushed steel that matched his chest plate, that the squire held out to him. 

"What does it look like usually?"

"I don't know. There's never been a Private Guard to the Queen before, Sir Dean."

Just then, the door swung open and Abaddon entered the room. Her ever present Ladies waited outside in the hall and the squires bowed before hurring out to join them. 

When the Guard snapped to attention, Dean followed their lead. When Abaddon made her way to him, he relaxed and gave a shallow bow. His Mark flared at the sight of her, like a blister in the sun. He didn't know what he expected to see today, but this wasn't it. 

Her hair was pulled tight into a bun on the back of her head. She wore a corset of leather and bone covered her chest to neck. Instead of the usual gown, she wore leather trousers, thick and shiny like the yolk over her shoulders. Thigh high boots cuffed just below where a dagger hilted on her hip.

"Your Grace. You look ready for battle, but I need you to stay where I can see you. Leave everything else to me."

Her smile was slow, like fog rolling into a bay at morning. That mouth had been wrapped around him last night, and the memory of it shone bright in Dean's mind. She reached up and fussed over his armor. 

"I know, Dean. Remember, I trust you."

Those three words boiled his insides. As a show of understanding and acceptance, he flicked his eyes to black and left them that way when he called out to his charges.

"Assemble boys! Eli? Lead the way. David? Choose someone to stand beside you. The other three, behind the Queen and I."

Everyone fell into position, creating protection around Abaddon. Dean pulled the helmet over his head, adjusting the nose guard. When he rested his hand on the small of her back, he realized he hadn't been this giddy for a fight in a while.

##### 

Purgatory hadn't changed at all, but why would it? It still housed the dead of anything that wasn't human, angel or demon. How many inhabitants had Dean put here specifically? He was like a cop walking into gen-pop in a prison. 

The guards stationed at the portal started when they heard the footfalls of the group, then bowed to the Queen when the saw her. When they rose, they looked from Eli to Dean and back again. 

"Gentlemen, this is Sir Winchester, Private Guard to the Queen. He is your commander and first in line to the Queen's wishes. He's leading this excursion today."

It took a beat before Dean realized they were waiting for direction. 

"Yes, ok. We're gathering gnomes and goblins for the stock yards. I want them separated, each group in their own enclosed cart. Don't load it too heavy, we're taking cart and all back through the portal to Crowley. Eli, assign your men. Two should be enough for the gnomes. But the goblins, those sons of bitches bite. The Queen stays with me. Don't anybody come between us. I'll swing first and take attendance later."

Eli nodded and started barking out orders to his men. Dean gestured to one of the portal guards who made short order rushing to stand in front of his Commander.

"What's your name, man?"

"Sir Winchester. My name is Christian."

Dean gave a short shake of his head. The irony wasn't lost on him. "Christian? A Christian in hell?" Christian only nodded, this was a joke he'd obviously heard before. 

"Alright. You stay with me. Take us to the goblins."

Christian unsheathed his blade and Dean followed suit. The seven of them started their trek into the forest to find the cluster Dean had been told about. 

#####

The Purgatory forest was cool and familiar to Dean. His muscle memory took over as he made his way through the strangely filtered light that cast a muted beige tinge over every surface. He kept Abaddon not more than an arms length away at any time and held her hand to guide her through more difficult thickets of brush and fallen logs. 

A crackle of twigs to the left stopped the group in their tracks. Dean's head snapped to face the sound and he breathed deeply, taking in the scent they were downwind of. They were still more than a mile from the goblin's cluster, so this could be any of the other monsters that lived here. 

Abaddon stayed behind him, where he'd pushed her to. She kept a hand on his bicep, trying to steady herself. "Dean? What is it?"

He didn't respond, not verbally. One finger in front of his lips, Dean pulled his blade from it's housing and brandished it in front of him. He looked to Eli, who was stealing glances at his Commander between watching the trees, both hands on the hilt of his sword. Low and even, Dean spoke one word, identifying the threat. 

"Werewolves."

A thunderous crash signaled their arrival through the branches. Five werewolves to the seven of them. Well, six and Abaddon. Dean maneuvered the Queen directly behind him with his blade brandished chest high. 

Christian was the first one they grabbed. Two of the beasts held his arms and pulled, making him scream like he was being torn apart. A third leapt down from a tree and ripped the man's throat out. His cries turned to wordless gurgles while he drowned in his own blood. 

Eli's broad sword swung in from the left and made short work of separating head from body of the one that killed Christian. The two that had restrained him paired off with Dean and Eli. 

Reaching behind him, Dean shoved his Queen to the three guards who had taken station behind them. "Protect her!" A demonic roar gave bass to the baritone of Dean's voice that split the still air of the forest. 

The young, female werewolf bared her teeth in a sickening display, tongue lolling out as she charged Dean. His left hand reached across his body and caught her neck from the other side. With a swift pull, she was flung to the ground where her head smacked loudly into a rock. 

Eli had lost his footing and was scrambling to his feet to face off against the monster leaping to attack him. Dean cried out with the effort of hauling the man to his feet. Eli raised his weapon again, resuming his battle. 

Dean saw the other men protecting the Queen as he'd ordered. There were two werewolves surrounding them, circling and waiting for the right moment to pounce. On his way back to the woman getting back to her feet, he slid along the ground and sliced the knee out from under one of them with the first blade. 

The female was quicker now, knowing that sleeping on her opponent would get her killed. She crossed the few feet between them and lunged at him before he could get his blade up. Her arms wrapped around his, holding them at his side. Thankfully, she was too short to get at his neck, but her teeth gnashed and clanged against his chest plate. 

Dean could hear screams of pain coming from where he last saw Abaddon and he started to panic. He couldn't see who was screaming. He couldn't tell if it was her. What if she was already dead? What if he'd failed her the first chance he'd gotten?

He started flailing, trying to shake loose from the grip the woman had around him. He started simultaneously squatting and flexing causing her arms to slide up his body until her feet were off the ground and her face was even with his. Dean threw his head forward, bashing the front of his helmet into her nose. 

The crunch of bone reverberated through the metal and the werewolf fell backward, landing on her ass. Dean spun on his heel, trying to get to Abaddon. Trying to save his Queen. 

Two of the guards, who's names he hadn't even bothered to learn, were giving everything they had. The other had blood pumping from a shredded thigh, but kept Abaddon behind him. One of the fighters swung his sword and the head of the beast closest to him rolled away. The other monster kicked the severed part back at the guards, throwing the taller one off balance. 

Dean ran full speed and cut the werewolf off, jamming the blade between his clavicles and pushing it upward. The wolf fell, his throat filleted open, but still alive. Dean dropped and straddled the hips of the bleeding monster and started chopping. With each swing of the blade, Dean grunted a short growl. Blood splattered his face and stung his eyes. 

Laser focused, he only stopped cutting when Abaddon screamed his name. Turning, he saw the female leaping at him, nose flat and laid sideways on her face. He stood just in time to be able to shove her back. Before she could fall, the pointed end of a silver long blade pierced out through her breast bone. She struggled to pull in a breath, but she couldn't get purchase and her eyes went dead. 

The blade tilted forward and she slid to the dirt floor of the forest. Behind her stood a tall, barrel chested man with ice blue eyes. 

"Hey there, brother. Don't you look spiffy."

Dean knew that sing-song voice with a Cajun lilt.

"Benny?"


	7. Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm on schedule!
> 
> There's only a chapter or two of plot building and then the story line is going to explode. ...well, hopefully.
> 
> Again, no beta for this chapter, so errors are mine. 
> 
> I know this is a off the grid ship, but hits alone are making happy.

Benny looked exactly the same as Dean remembered him. Right down to that jaunty cap of his.

"Never thought I'd see you again, Dean. Especially not here. Be great to catch up, but--uh, looks like a mess over there with that pretty girl."

Dean turned and saw Abaddon on the ground with a pale, dying man in her lap. The blood pumping from his thigh had slowed and lost rhythm. His death was imminent, but Dean was solely worried about his Queen.

"Your Grace?" He fell heavily to the ground and started wiping blood from her, taking inventory to make sure it wasn't hers. "Are you alright? Not hurt? Were you bit or scratched?"

"No, no, I'm fine." She brushed his hands away. Her hands cradled the bloody body of the man who had given his life for her. "He's dead. Take him away." 

Dean motioned the other two over to remove the body. Once free from the weight, Abaddon stood and gave Dean a once over. Seeing that he was uninjured, she looked around the space and took a head count. 

"Sir Winchester, where's Eli?"

Dean tried to ignore Benny's snarky reply. "SIR Winchester? That's just rich."

"He was paired off with one of them, your Grace, but I lost sight of him."

"Your GRACE?! What kind of bubble butt bullshit is this, Dean? You out here playin' dress up or--"

Benny couldn't finish his sentence because the wind had been knocked out of him by the tree Dean slammed him against.

"Enough, Benny! You may not know who she is, who I am, but you will show some fucking respect." Dean purposely held his eyes black, hoping to scare Benny into understanding.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, brother." Benny held up his hands in surrender, cockeyed smile playing over his lips. "Obviously, there's more goin' on here than meets the eye. My apologies, uh, your Grace, is it? I would curtsey, but I seem to be, well, restrained at the moment."

Dean was concentrating on unclenching each finger from Benny's shirt when Eli staggered back into view. His forehead, from hairline to brow, was sliced open. The pink of the flesh beneath his dark skin garish in contrast. 

Abaddon kept an eye on Benny, but moved to Eli, asking how he was wounded.

"I'm fine, my Queen. Bastard knocked into me and I cut myself with my own damn blade."

Dean sighed and surveyed the scene. Only two of theirs dead. Not a bad trade, but the exhaustion was sure to set in and he didn't know if they could take another fight if they ran into anyone or anything deeper in Purgatory. 

"Alright. Eli, You and your men load the bodies into the cart. That's enough for today. Crowley will just have to work with the gnomes for now. We can head back."

Dean paused with a hand on Abaddon's elbow and looked back at Benny. "I'd like to, um--catch up, I guess. Ya know the guard station about a mile that way?"

"Mmmm, that's your people?"

Dean nodded slowly as he walked away. "Yeah, be there just after dawn tomorrow. I might have an opportunity if you're interested." Dean wished he had time today to try and explain things to Benny, but duty called. "Your Grace? Follow me."

After about a dozen steps, Dean heard Benny call out behind him. 

"I'm always down for a good opportunity, Winchester."

#####

"Sir Winchester? My Queen, are you alright? What happen--oh." David's words were cut off when he saw the two bodies in the cart. 

Eli stepped forward and started giving orders to the rest of the brigade. There were two dozen gnomes captured, most had come along willingly. David and his partner had done well and Dean made a show of telling them as much, giving each soldier individual recognition. 

Dean gave orders for Eli and David to accompany him to the stockyards to make the delivery and for the other three to take the bodies of their fallen to be prepared on pyres. 

"Your Grace. You don't have to come. I know this day didn't turn out the way you expected it to."

Abaddon stood at the mouth of the portal, hands clasped in front of her body. "Winchester, I might be a queen, but I'm not delicate. I will follow this mission to completion. I didn't have a man die while protecting me to quit now."

There really was no point in arguing with her. The trip to Crowley's was tame next to what they've been through. "Well...alright then. You heard her. Get to it, fellas."

#####

"Crowley! Get off your ass!" Dean watched the brooding man stomp, honestly stomp, across the yard to where they'd parked the cart. 

"What's this? More crap for me to look after? You all seem to think I have nothing better to do, no skills whatsoever. You know what you can do, Squirrel?"

Dean leaned his back against the cart, fingers laced and hands dropped at the waist. "Nah, why don't ya tell me, Crowley."

Crowley's face pinched in anger, winding up to unleash a verbal tirade on the commander of an army. When he heard her voice, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Do tell, Crowley. What is it that Sir Winchester can do?" Abaddon took Dean's offered hand, using it to balance through the muck and shit. When she'd reached the edge of a particularly wet puddle she stopped. "We've brought you a staff, Fergus. Dean, well, he advocated for you. Reminded me just how inept you really are."

Crowley's beady eyes bounced from Abaddon to the cart. He strained to see the contents, but in the perpetual gloomy light he couldn't make anything out. 

"This is where you take your knee, Crowley. Show some gratitude where its due." Abaddon's were clasped almost demurely, one cupped in the other. When Crowley approached her, she didn't tilt her head, just looked down her nose at him. 

His knee planted dead center in the mess. It slipped a little before Crowley hobbled and got his balance back. "My Queen, thank you for your generosity. I'm positive you'll be pleased with the increased productivity. You know what's best." 

"Remember, it wasn't my idea. I only followed Sir Winchester's suggestion. Eli, get them unpacked if you don't mind. Dean? Take me home, please. This place stinks."

Dean had to hide the smile on his face when he heard the sucking sound of Crowley pulling his knee out of the wet earth. Leading Abaddon back to the portal, they both laughed their way across the threshold when they heard Crowley start bitching again. 

"Oompah loompahs?! You brought me fucking oompah loompahs?!

######

The Portal Room was empty except for the two of them and Dean had no idea how to behave. He hadn't been alone with Abaddon since her bedroom the night before. He remembered she said he would submit to her there, but he would protect her everywhere else. With that in mind, he squared off his body and gave her his itinerary for the rest of the day.

"You're done for the day, my Queen. Today was a lot. Get cleaned up, take your meal in your chambers and rest. I still have more to do. I have to debrief with Eli and make arrangements for the bodies. I can't worry about you while I do this. I can't risk the distraction."

Abaddon stepped up into Dean's space. Her hands ran down his forearms and took his hands in hers. 

"I distract you, Dean? As your Queen or as the one you bare yourself to?" She went up on tip toe, nosing along his jaw. "When you're done today, come see me. Lady Laura will be outside the foyer." 

Dean gave her hands a little squeeze and stepped back to start pulling his chest plate off. "This is the distraction I was talking about. Go on. I'll be there tonight."

Abaddon made her way to the door and greeted Collin, who was waiting on the other side. Dean saw her speaking to him briefly before he bowed deeply at the waist. Her Ladies fell in formation behind her and she disappeared down the hall. 

There was a clatter of feet and voices over Dean's shoulder as Eli and the others returned from the stockyards. The other squires made their way in and started taking chest plates and swords from the men, rushing out of the room with them. Collin held out a warm, wet cloth for Dean who took it and scrubbed at his face and hands. 

"Eli, is there a meeting place for us here? Somewhere we can relax and discuss the mission with the men?" Dean handed the towel back to Collin and clapped the shoulder of the younger man. "Collin, I need you to delegate. Bring on a couple assistants if you need to. You know, uh--pages, right? Pages work for squires, yeah?"

Collins face lit up when Dean gave him the green light to expand his staff. "Oh! Yes Sir! I know some fine men. Hard working. Sir Eli, shall I make arrangements in the tavern?"

Eli nodded and turned to the young man standing next to the dead guards bodies in the cart. "Son, take your Lord. Prepare his body. Assign someone to prepare the other…"

"Christian." Dean spoke the name and Eli paused, waiting for his commander to continue. "His name is Christian. He was brave and deserves a proper funeral. Tomorrow. In the square."

After a couple of beats, when Eli was sure Dean had said his piece, he continued. "The tavern is perfect, Collin. Food, drink and company. Take the other squires and do as Sir Winchester said. Delegate to them." 

The remaining squires gathered their knight's belongings and headed out the door, falling in line behind Collin. Dean figured if he was the battalion commander, Collin must be the high ranking squire.

"David, take the men to the tavern. Relax and have a drink. Don't get lit though, we still have work to do." Dean nodded acknowledgement when David snapped to attention with the other men following suit and heading out the door.

As soon as they were gone, Dean approached Eli and took a better look at the cut on his face. "That's gonna need stitches, man. Is there someone here, like a medic or something…"

"Who's Benny?" He waited for an answer for a moment and asked again when he didn't get one. "I didn't ask while anyone was here, but Winchester, who is Benny?"

How was he supposed to explain this without getting into a discussion about the Angel. The fewer people who knew about that the better. He didn't have to really tell Eli anything. Giving half an answer was really a full courtesy.

"Benny? Well, Benny is an old friend. We worked together to get out of a tight spot. Probably one of the bravest, most loyal men I've ever known. You don't need to worry about him. He's not a danger to anyone."

"Your word is bond, Sir. Come, the tavern awaits!" Eli rested his hand on Dean's shoulder and started for the door. "And as for my face, I think it'll give this pretty mug some character. Don't you agree?"

#####

The way to the tavern was through the little village outside the castle walls. Eli explained this was where most of the staff lived while other residents we're here to sell their wares or perform services. The two men passed through the crowds easily. Their clothing signifying their positions and leaving no room for mistaken identity.

The tavern itself was like something out of a movie. Long wooden tables were set in rows throughout one great room. A bar took up one entire wall and women in corsets weaved their way through with full mugs mead carried in each hand. 

David sat sideways on a bench with a lady sitting on his lap, breasts spilling over the top of her blouse. 

"Sirs, come sit!" The knight was celebrating a successful mission with vigor, one hand gripped his cup and the other gripped the ass of the girl on his lap. "Join us. Have a drink! For that matter, have a wench!" 

They caroled at Dean's arrival and called out for more liquor. Dean took his drink and waved the woman who delivered it away. Eli watched him closely when he finally sat.

"Not looking for company tonight, Winchester? Helps pass the time, ya know?"

Dean figured they probably knew about Abaddon's plans for him. He was sure Eli did at the very least. He still wasn't keen on talking about it or mussing out loud about whether it would be cheating or not. Either way, he didn't need his personal shit gossiped about. 

"Nah, just not seeing anything I'm interested in is all. David, ask your friend to give us some space. We need to talk about business. Eli, the men did well today. Followed orders without question, Christian gave all to defend the Queen and that wasn't even his post. Someone want to tell me about the other casualty?"

"Aye, that would be William. Never thought that bloke would amount to shite, but here we are." The dark haired man raised his cup in a toast. "To William!"

Everyone raised their drinks in tribute and after drinking deep, Dean addressed the man who knew William. "And you are?"

"Me? Well, uh, my name is Gregory, Sir."

 

“Gregory. And you?” Dean gestured to the remaining man at the table. 

“Byron. Glad to serve, Sir.” Byron was what people described as ‘corn fed’. Broad shouldered and thick necked. 

“That sounds like an Oklahoma accent, if I’m not mistaken.” Dean was genuinely interested in his troops. Knowing who a person is in life was a perfect precursor to who they would be in battle.

“You would be correct. Born and raised. Well, before this place.”

“Yeah. This place. We’ve all done things to get here. Things we aren't proud of.” A couple of their heads hung in shame, and Dean wasn't having that. “Pick your heads up, boys. This ain’t a pity party. We’re all serving the same purpose now. We may be evil or demons or whatever, but we serve with honor. If I see you don't, I’ll send your asses to Alistair. Understood?”

The all nodded, but he wanted to hear it. Hear their agreement and understanding. 

“Am I understood?!” His fist slammed down on the table, rattling both the mugs and pitchers on it and the men seated at it. 

“Sir, yes sir!”

Dean’s eyes flicked to black and he left them that way while he crossed his boots on the table top. “Don’t take me for granted. I’m a fucking pleasure to be around, but when I speak, you jump. I appreciate the hard work I’ve seen from y’all. I look forward to seeing more in the future. Let’s see who you can bring to the table. Eli, before me you were a battalion of six, right?”

“That's correct. Always thought more would be better, though.”

“I want more. Larger chain of command, too. These will be your lieutenants. Unless you see fit to replace them.” Dean scanned their faces with his demon eyes, pinning them where they sat. “Each of them needs at least four sargents. Each sargent needs troops, no more than fifty. Abaddon has had a guard. I want an army. I want it working like a machine. Well oiled and disciplined.”

“That’s going to take time, Sir.” Eli spoke low, almost in a whisper, trying to keep their conversation private in a public place.

“You have three days.” Empty mugs clattered to the ground when he brought his feet down to the floor and stood. “Enjoy the evening, boys. Tomorrow we have a funeral to attend late morning. So, at lunch, report to the map room with a plan laid out.” Dean turned and left without another word their way. He needed to find Collin and check on his armor. He needed to get back to his Queen. 

#####

Dean found the blacksmith easily enough after asking a couple of people in the marketplace. Collin was there, working as he said he would be. 

“Sir Winchester! I’m glad you're here. They need measurements and any input you have. A message was sent to her Majesty today, asking for her suggestion for your crest. I, uh, I know you’ll be visiting her today. Maybe you can discuss it with her, I’m sure you have input that she would like to hear.”

Standing with his arms out to the sides, Dean let the blacksmith take his measurements. He nodded at Collin, acknowledging him. “Yeah, um. I have a friend that will be at the Portal on the Purgatory side tomorrow. He needs to be brought to me before the funerals. Hopefully, he will be joining me and the Guard in the Map Room. Prepare a room for him, in case he accepts my offer. He’s gonna need a page, too.”  
Collin listened intently to every word Dean said and clapped the blacksmith on the back as he walked away. “Of course. I’ll make sure he’s comfortable. Would you like his chambers in the same wing as the Guard or near yours?”

It wasn't a question Dean had prepared for. He’d like his friend close, but he also needed ears he could trust near his command. “With the guard, but one of the nicer ones you have. Collin, you’re a good man. You’ve helped a lot with this, with me. I appreciate you. If you need anything, or want anything for that matter, you let me know. Whatever it is.”

Collin stood proud and gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, Sir. Back to the castle? I know you have an appointment, as it were.”

He wasn't wrong and Dean needed to get back. The demon inside had flexed an awful lot today. Abaddon said she’d help with this. The image of her looking up at him flashed in his mind again. “The sooner the better, Collin. Let’s go.”

#####


	8. Queen of Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy carp. On schedule again!
> 
> All errors are mine all mine.
> 
> The little shop that could made it to 50 views this week and I am GIDDY over it. 
> 
> Muah

As promised, Lady Laura was waiting outside the foyer to Abaddon’s chambers for him. The Queen hadn't given him a time to be there, so he didn’t know how long the Lady had been waiting. Dean nodded in greeting, but it was not returned. He didn't know if it was because she was being flippant or because that was the behavior expected of her station. 

Per the usual, she simply turned and led him through the door. The remaining Ladies in Waiting were sitting in cushioned wingback chairs, their silence filling the room. No one even glanced up or acknowledged his presence, so he simply followed Lady Laura past them, to the door that led to Abaddon’s room. If he was honest, it was creepy. Not o e movement from the hooded women, eyes hidden and only their brick red lips visible. Even their hands, covered on leather gloves, say unmoving on the armrests. When Lady Laura opened the door, she stood to the side and let him past. The soft shuffle of feet and the click of the latch were the only noises she made.

He had expected a greeting of some kind, but for the first time he was alone in the castle. There was a huge tub in the corner he hadn’t seen before. Both fireplaces were lit and there was a huge pot on the spit that crossed the expanse of one. Curtains were drawn over windows and lanterns glowed throughout the room. 

The table was in the center of the room, scarves from the previous night were laid out over the top. There were no cushions on the floor, though. Abaddon had talked him through the stages, but without them he wasn't sure where to start, so he stood somewhat awkwardly next to it. He turned quickly when the door to Gunnorah’s room opened. He’d been introduced to the hound, but he didn't necessarily trust that she wouldn't tear him apart if she saw him again. Dean hid a relieved breath behind a chuckle when he saw Abaddon enter alone. 

“Your Grace.” His bow was shallow, unable to look away. “You look, wow. You look beautiful.” She was dressed more simply than he’d seen her since he got here. Her hair was pulled up loosely and it seemed a black silk robe was all she was wearing. It trailed on the floor behind her, splitting open in the front as she walked. Bare feet padded along the floor and the room was large enough to give Dean time to appreciate her from her toes up. 

The lacquer on her toe nails matched the red on her fingers that matched her lips. The muscles in her calves and thighs turned and flexed with every step she took. The material of her robe clung to her hips as they weaved side to side. The sash cinched the waist tight and her breasts pushed against the robe, making her nipples prominent, even though they weren't erect. Stopping a few feet from him, her lips parted and she took a breath before smiling casually at him. 

“Hello, Dean. Your time with your command was productive, I’m sure?” Her face pinched a little when she saw the state of his appearance. “I knew you wouldn’t have cleaned up. Not really anyway.”

Dean was suddenly very aware of how he looked. Sure, he’s washed away the worst of the blood, but he hadn't bothered to change. He realised that he was in too much of a hurry to get here, to get to her. 

“Oh, well, I don’t even have a good excuse. But you said, you know, that I needed to get here and so, I here I am.” He flopped his hands to his sides where they slapped against his thighs. He didn’t want to disappoint her, yet Like he said, here he was. Standing in battle stained clothes and probably stinking of dead werewolf. 

“No, no. You're right. I should have been more specific. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, at the tavern.”

“Good boy.” There it was again. That tingle of something he felt when she praised him. He didn't have a name for it because he hadn't felt it before. “Go ahead and take off your clothes. There’s water on the fire and cooler water in the tub for you. Prepare your bath, Dean.”

Abaddon sat in a chair that had been placed next to the bathtub and waited, one leg crossed over the other and robe falling open to the top of her thigh. Dean bent and started with his boots, hopping from one foot to the other to take them off. The cowl of chainmail made a tinkling sound when it hit the floor. He had to will his fingers not to tremble while he unstrapped the stiff leather that covered his wrists. The weight of her stare was heavy while she watched his every move. 

It felt much more natural when he pulled his shirt over his head, the movement familiar. With just his trousers left he started for the fire to get the pot, stopping when she finally spoke again. 

“No, Winchester. Finish one task before you start the next one.”

Dean had never once been shy about his appearance in his life, neither human or demon existence. Some part of him decided to make a show of this. The hands that trembled over the straps earlier, slowly worked at the lacing over his crotch. Thin strips of leather slipped between his fingers until the pants were loose enough to pull down. He had to wiggle a little because the hips were tight and unforgiving. When they were gone, he rose again to full height, exposing himself to her appraisal. 

“You're showing off for my benefit. Don't get me wrong, it’s wonderful to look at, but I did tell you to do something and I need you to get on with it.”

Dean's fingertips tapped lightly on his thighs awkwardly before he snapped out of it and turned to the fireplace to get the water that was heating up there. A thick cloth was hung from a hook on the mantle, and Dean figured it was a lot holder of sorts. He pulled it down to pull the pot from the spit and took his time, carefully moving slowly to the tub, steam rising from the near boiling water. 

He was acutely aware of Abaddon's eyes on him while he added the hot water to the partially filled tub. "So, should I…" Dean gestured to the tub, not sure what she wanted next. Scooting forward in the chair and uncrossing her leg, she leaned her arms on her knees.

Lips pursed in thought, she stared at him a moment before nodding. "Go ahead. There's soap in the dish." 

He stepped into the clawfoot carefully and was surprised by the comfortably warm temperature. The water that was there before he added the pot to it must not have been too cold. It was easy to sink down into it. There was enough depth that he was submerged to just below his waist.

Dean used the square that looked like something from one of those farmers markets Sam used to drag him to. Artisanal? Is that what they called it? It didn't suds up the way he was used to, but it smelled good. He used his hands to scrub at his arms and chest while Abaddon started chatting at him casually. 

"Who's Benny?" Dean's hands slowed but didn't stop and moved to wash the back of his neck and ears. She didn't look mad. She looked quite passive about the question she just asked. "Odd for you to go traipsing through Purgatory and stumble on an old friend, yeah?"

"Benny's a good man. He, uh...he helped me get out of Purgatory. We've traded favors over the years. He'd be a good soldier. He could report directly to me. I think switching up the army is a good idea."

Abaddon slid down to her knees next to the tub and laid her chin on the side, looking through her lashes at Dean. 

"Change how?"

Dean didn't know what he'd expected from her, but interest in and consideration of his input wasn't what he thought he'd be getting tonight. 

"Well, Benny has spent decades in Purgatory. Knows it inside and out." For a moment Dean was distracted by the blood red tipped finger swirling in the water above his knee. Snapping back to the conversation, he cleared his throat before he continued. "He's also a vampire. He could control and lead a platoon of vamps. They're assholes, but they fight till they're dead."

"And the Guard, what are your plans there?" Her voice had turned cool. After pushing herself up to her feet, Abaddon reached down and plucked the soap from Dean's hand. When she stood, her robe slipped and exposed the dip of skin above her collar bone. 

The contrast of black silk and cream skin distracted Dean, but it only took a fraction of a moment for him to realize this was part of the game. Instead of pretending he didn't see it, he let his eyes linger, but continued engaging with his Queen. 

"I'm expanding it. Organising troops. It's going to run like a machine, your Grace. Just watch." She was out of his sight, settling one hip on the edge of the tub behind him. Dean's senses perked up when he felt soap slicked hands tracing over his shoulder blades. He let his head fall forward and just enjoyed the touch and the chills it sent down his arms. 

"All to protect your Queen? Such a good boy you are, Winchester. Scoot forward and lean your head back."

Without a second thought he did as she said. Maybe he'd get another 'good boy' out of her. The water was cooling a bit and when she poured a pitcher of it over his head it was tepid. The feel of Abaddon's fingernails scratching at his scalp relaxed him enough that Dean's eyes fell shut and he hummed out loud. 

"There you go. Just relax. My Knight had quite the day, didn't he?" What Dean thought would be a noise of calm agreement came out as a grunt and it made Abaddon chuckle while she talked. "Let me take care of you, Winchester."

Another pitcher of water poured over his head, rinsing the soap away. "The demon didn't just come to the surface today. It came right out front to play, huh? That must have taken a lot. Still tapping it down enough that chaos didn't take over."

She was right. First the werewolves, then Benny. And the men in the tavern. Abaddon was a demon. All day, everyday. And now, so was Dean. He could keep the worst of it boxed up, but it was like a wild animal. You can train it to behave in public, but if you aren't careful, it'll snap and take out everything in reach. 

"Stand up. I need you to dry off and come to the table, Dean." Her voice had changed. It had gone from the almost sweet banter to a commanding tone in a blink. After using the soft but thick cloth that was folded on the floor, he started wrapping it around his waist until he caught her looking at him. 

One brow was cocked and she was holding the black scarf between both hands. Dean draped the towel over the chair she had first sat in and made his way to stand in front of Abaddon. She nudged a cushion over until it was between her and the table. 

"Have you heard of safe words, Dean?” Once Dean had nodded she continued. "Step one will have you gagged. You can't speak, so three quick taps is what I want you to use. If you can't reach me, slap your thigh three times. When your hands are bound, three snaps. Repeat it so I know you understand."

Dean had to swallow around a lump of anticipation in his throat to speak. "Three taps if I can reach you, three slaps on my thigh if I can't and three snaps if I'm...bound." 

Abaddon paused when he stumbled over the last word. "Is there a problem with tying you up? Don't be shy, this is when we talk about limits, Dean."

"No! No, it's not a problem. Not really. I've just never had someone do it other than some girl trying to be kinky. I have, well, control issues I guess."

"You guess? Winchester, you're the definition of a control freak." She took a step closer. "But here, in this room?" And another. "Some of that control you hang on to?" She finally stood close enough that the cool smoothness of her robe lightly ghosted the head of his cock. "You're safe to let it go."

Dean's fingers twitched, itching to grip Abaddon's waist and yank her close. Her skin was like porcelain under her jaw. If he had any soul left, he'd sell it to kiss the mole there. His dick was swelling, hanging heavy between his legs. Soon enough, in this proximity to her, he'd be nudging at her thigh. 

Abaddon cupped his cheek and lightly pressed at his bottom lip with her thumb. "Open." 

Dean couldn't stop now if he tried. Any sort of snark or flair for the funny was gone. He barely wanted to chance a blink. If he did, he might miss a cue, might not do this right. When he did try to open his mouth, his lips were dry enough that the stuck together a little. Darting his tongue out to wet them, he was surprised by the thickness of the silk being pressed between his teeth. 

Abaddon went up on her tiptoes to tie the gag behind his head. To keep her balance, she leaned against him chest to hip. His cock was fully hard now and the head prodded past the edges of the Queen's robe and bumped against her thigh, earning a low murmur of appreciation from her. 

"Hmmmm, so eager. Stage one, Sir Winchester. Knees in the cushions, ankles crossed." She held her hands out, palms up, so he could steady himself. "Very nice. Show me. Tap?" 

When she pulled her robe aside to expose her thigh, Dean could see the black lace covering her crotch. Reaching forward, he finally got to touch her. There was a contrast to the smoothness of her skin and the callus of his finger tips. He gave the muscle three quick taps with his middle and ring fingers. Abaddon laid her and over his and gave a gentle squeeze. 

“And if you can't reach me?” Dean looked up at her, eyes wide and slapped his own thigh with the hand she wasn't holding, loud enough to be heard. 

“What do you do if you're bound? Can you snap loud enough for me to hear?” Three distinct snaps cracked through the tension in the room. Abaddon took his hand off of her thigh and dropped it, allowing her to cup his chin. “Good boy.” 

Dean’s eyes fell shut and a nearly embarrassing whine came out of nowhere and he leaned heavily against her hand. This was new for him. How could he be so desperate for two little words coming from someone that once was his enemy. His mortal enemy, but he wasn't really a mortal any more was he?

“...your eyes, Dean. Dean? Open your eyes.” He didn't know how long she’d been saying his name, but when he looked up, her face was right in front of his. He tried to answer, but with the gag it all came out as ‘M’s’ and ‘F’s’. “Don’t tune out on me yet. We’re just establishing rules. Should I keep going?” Dean nodded once, knowing that if he nodded too much and she praised him again like that, he’d shoot his load all over her feet. He might be finding out he was kinkier than he thought, but he was pretty sure a foot fetish wasn't something he’d be into. 

He was almost grateful when she pulled her hand off his face and turned away. It gave him time to take a couple breaths and center himself again. The sound of something dragging behind him startled him the rest of the way back into the present. Abaddon settled the chair in front of where he knelt and settled into it. 

“We’re gonna start slow. This isn't about punishment, it’s about control. If you let that big, nasty demon out, you’re never going to get control back.” Dean watched her hands dance over the sash around her waist, willing her to catch an end and pull. “So, here, in this room, you can let go a little. Give it over to me. It’s really about ebb and flow if you think about it. When you need to let it flex, let it flex.” 

Finally, fucking finally, she pulled. When the edges came open, she leaned back. The skin from her neck to her navel was exposed, but that was as much as he could see because of her crossed legs. 

“I’ll be the one to stop before you go to far. Before you can't take something back.” There were literal inches between them now, and when she uncrossed her legs her toes brushed against his hip. He thought it was on accident until she did it again. Nothing Abaddon, Queen of Hell did was an accident. “I’ll bind you, restrict you, order you and take care of you.” She leaned back and laid her feet on the floor beside the cushion. “Lean back. Put your butt on your heels, Winchester.”

She moved like a weird combination of liquid and solid when she stood up and let the robe fall on the chair behind her. Her hips were soft and there was a little bit of an indentation where lace panties covered her. Abaddon’s breasts were full and looked soft, like the kind that would give enough to let him crush her against his chest. She had a freckle dead center between them on her sternum and another between her clavicle and her nipple on the left. He watched her nipples harden in response to the sudden exposure to the air. 

“Control, Dean. That’s what all of this is for. And really good sex.” She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slid them down her thighs. Dean’s dick kicked a little when he finally saw her naked. His hands hung limply at his sides while he looked up at her. Head craned and waiting for her next direction. The last thing he expected was for her to straddle his thighs and settle in his lap. 

“Rules. You can touch me here…” Her hands took his and settled them on her hips. “...here…” She slid them painfully slow to her waist. “...and here.” She let his hands rest on her lower back and brought hers back around to the front, one on his shoulder and one slid down between them. She smiled like a cat with a canary when she wrapped her hand around him and felt wetness. “Control it, Dean. You can’t come until I say so, no matter how good it feels.”

She rose up enough that her tit drug over his lips. Dean knew this was simply a bonus and didn't chase it, but he reveled in the softness and weight. It was gone as quickly as it had been there, but he didn't have a chance to miss the stimulation. Abaddon was dragging the head of his cock between her lips, spreading heat and slickness over him. He wanted to grab her, wrap her legs around his hips and fuck up into her a dozen times until he came. 

Control, Dean.

Abaddon pushed down against him and let him start sliding into her. She made a noise that was a contradiction of a rumble and a coo. Dean imagined the noises he could pull out of her. None of them would be this gentle. 

Control, Dean.

Slow enough to be painful, she spread her legs wider and moved down until he was fully seated inside her. And then she stopped and just stared at him. His fingers itched to move, to take one ass cheek in each hand and rock into her. But he didn't. He knew that wasn't why she brought him here. More importantly, that wasn't why he came. 

“You’re going so well. In fact, you’ve been so good tonight I won’t make you wait very long.” She folded forward at the waist and pressed her pelvis into his, dragging herself down against him. Both hands gripped his shoulders now, fingernails biting into his deltoids. “Let me do the work, Winchester. You focus on control.”

Dean hoped more than anything else she wouldn't praise him right now. ‘Just let me show you. Don't call me a good boy yet. Let me earn it.’ He couldn’t say anything he was thinking because of the gag, so he was left to try and convey how he felt with his eyes. Pleading but not enough to warrant a response. 

Her lips parted in a predatory smile and she moved faster, popping her hips back with each down stroke. Dean held on to her gently. If he didn't follow the rules, she’d be disappointed in him. If this look on her face now changed to something less enraptured--he didn't think he could stand it. His brows pulled tight and tipped up in the center, hoping to let her know that he was trying. He was trying to please her. Trying to show control.

Abaddon’s head rolled back exposing the column of her neck and Dean could imagine her teeth working over her bottom lip. The image of her coming on his dick made his balls start to draw tight, but he willed them back down. When she was satisfied, when she said it was ok, he’d come. Her walls tightened around him making the friction almost unbearable. Wordless sighs and grunts spilled out of her like lyrics in a song Dean could have written himself. When he felt her back tense up, her head rolled forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder. 

“Mmmm. Fuck, Dean. So much control. You feel so good. Doing just what I told you to do.” Her breath was hot and damp on his neck, making goosebumps break out over his skin. “Just a little longer. Hold out just a little bit..a little bit more.” Her hips moved in a figure eight over his and he could feel her coming. “That’s it. So good--such a good--” She was going to say it. He knew she would. He panted against the fabric between his teeth. Nothing but sheer will was holding him back. “Come for me, good boy.”

Dean’s voice cracked when he finally let go. He swelled and pulsed inside her while she flexed and squeezed around him. Everything went soft. The edges of his vision, the sound of her breathing in his ears and even the feel of her skin under his thumbs. Her hands untied the gag and she tossed it aside, massaging at the muscles of his jaws. Stiff and dry as his lips were he begged for more. 

“Did I do good? Was I a g--good…”

“You were a very good boy. You like that don't you? The praise? I know you do, Dean. You can say it.” Abaddon gripped his head to her chest and pressed kisses to his hair. “Ask again.”

Dean tried to work up enough spit to wet his lips and speak. “Was I a good boy, my Queen?”

“A very good boy, Sir Winchester. Let’s get you something to drink and maybe a snack? You’ve earned it.”

In that moment, he felt something Dean Winchester hadn’t felt in a very long time. Satisfaction in knowing he’d earned praise.


	9. Hell of a Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all.
> 
> Sorry about the delay. This chapter just wouldnt cooperate!!
> 
> No beta so I own all the goofs.

"Were grapes always this good?” Dean’s cheeks were stuffed full of fruit from the platter on the floor between them. He was reclined on his side, elbow propping him up on a pillow. Abaddon was cross legged, back in her robe, and facing Dean. 

“Yes, fruit has always been good. You just avoided it unless it was baked in a crust.”

Anyone who walked in on them right now would have thought they were just a simple couple sharing some private time before bed. Instead they were the two most powerful beings of the underworld.

“Hey, pie’s good. Don’t pick on me. Cheese?” Dean popped it in his mouth when she shook her head no. “Fine. More for me.”

She leaned her cheek on the heel of her hand while she rested her elbow on her knee. Dean wondered why she was so keen on watching him while he did something as simple as ate some cheese. “Tomorrow’s schedule is gonna be packed. I’ve got meetings most of the day. Me, Dean Winchester, taking meetings. Who woulda thunk it, right? And then, ya know, the funerals are late morning."

“This position seems to be fitting you well. I’ve given you room to build an army and lead it. You're doing really well, you know?” He couldn't help but preen when she plucked at his hair, pushing it back up away from his forehead. “I was sent a message from the blacksmith after Collin told him you needed armor. I’m supposed to approve your crest. Any ideas?”

Dean shrugged one big shoulder and went back to picking around at the food. “I dunno. I tried to imagine something I guess, but I’m coming up blank. Everything seems cheesy when I think about it.”

Abaddon took his right hand in her left and pulled it to her, exposing the Mark. The fingers of her right traced the puffed scar. “What about this? You are Sir Dean Winchester, bearer of the Mark of Cain. It would be fitting that the general of my army flew this flag, don't you think?” 

He stared at it a moment longer, expecting it to burn red under her touch. Maybe the Mark emblazoned in red steel would look good. Would be fitting, anyway. A crest to match the title.

“Yeah. You know what? I like it. Thanks Queen!” She rolled her eyes at his impish grin and wink. 

“We need sleep, Dean. Tomorrow’s going to be tedious, even though it’s going to be tame compared to today. Emotional too. Your squire is arranging the funeral?"

Dean dreaded the fact that she was closing off and ending their time. "Um, yeah. I told him I want full honors. They died in battle. They gave their lives for you."

"I agree. I'll join you in the carriage room, and from there you'll escort me. Tell Colin you need finery for the ceremony. For now, Lady Laura will take you back to your quarters.” 

Dean stared up at her when she stood, the grin and all traces of impishness gone. He didn't expect to be sent away after they had sex. Silly him, he didn’t want to leave her. 

“Put on some pants, Winchester. My ladies are quiet, but they aren't dead. Don’t want them getting all feral over the goods after all.”

“I could just stay here. With you. Just tonight?”

Abaddon paused and threw him a look over her shoulder. She wasn't giving him any kind of look that would make him think she was disappointed in him. If he was honest though, she didn’t really look happy. 

“Don’t make me regret relaxing with you, Dean. I enjoyed it and I would hate to miss it, but you know what this is. I’ve told you. Now, pants.”

And just like that she was out the door, leaving him to gather his things. 

#####

“Benny!” Dean pulled the man into a bear hug and rocked back and forth a little. They gave each other a few claps on the back before pulling away. “Lookin’ good, man.”

“You know I’ve always been a pretty boy, Dean. Now you gonna tell me what all this is about or are you just gonna stroke my already over inflated ego all day?”

“Damn. I guess you aren't much for catching up then are you?” Dean motioned to the chair across the table from him and smiled when Benny sat. “But...if I’m gonna explain, I gotta go back about a year.”

Benny sat silently and just listened to Dean’s story. He nodded when appropriate, but didn't interrupt. It took less time than he thought it would to wrap it all up and honestly, none of it was surprising. Winchester had seen everything and pissed it off. Twice. Figures that evil would take up residence in him. Who was Benny to judge? He was a damn vampire who’d lost everything he ever cared about and preferred eternity in the pureness of Purgatory to trying to survive on earth. 

“So you went from the guy saving the world to the harborer of the curse of the father of murder? Seems legit.” After a few short chuckles, Benny tested the waters with the big question. “But now? What’s all this? Sir Lancelot looks good on you, but the Queen of Hell, man? Since when do you take orders?”

“Hey, asshole, there’s only one person I take orders from. Everyone else, they answer to me. It’s a pretty sweet gig if you think about it. You know, I’ve got a place here for you. I think you'll dig it."

Benny leaned back and crossed his ankles on the table top, grinning back at Dean.

"Lil ole me? In hell. Doing what, man?" Benny's laugh was low and thick. It smoothed down Dean's nervous edges.

"I need you to lead an army. All vamps. They've never built up down here. With my knowledge of monsters and what they can do...can you imagine?" Dean was on his feet now, gesturing wildly with his hands. "C'mon, Benny. Let's run this shit! You and Eli would be my seconds. Y'all would each have a battalion. Couple sargents and what not, right?"

"Here's what I'm thinking, Dean. Number one. You want me to, what, gather up a bunch of vampires and get them to respect you? That ain't gonna happen. Not without a shit ton of negotiations."

Dean stopped pacing and pressed his palms down on the table. "Negotiate away, my man."

Benny's boots clunked down on the hardwood floor. "Alright, lemme see what I can do. Now, number two. Something ain't right. I don't care what color you paint this. She's got somethin' on you. Like to tell me what it is?"

"I mean...no. Maybe. Shut up, Benny."' Even as a demon, deep down, Dean never lost himself. "Look, it's no secret that I've got this Mark and then this demon thing. It's a lot, ya know? So she's helping me to focus it. Control it. Alright?"

Benny lifted both hands, palms out, at Dean. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. Forget I asked."

"Nah, it's not like that, ok. I just don't need anymore whispers and shit. Not from you, ok?" Dean came back to the task at hand. He needed to know if this was going to work. "So, the troops? You down?" 

"I dunno, man. Can I spend some time here? See what all this is?" Benny waved his hand around in a random flourish. "Her kingdom and all that."

"Oh! Yeah, Benny! I had chambers set up for you...just in case, ya know?"

"I can take a couple days of vacation. How are the amenities?"

Dean gave a full body laugh that he hadn't felt come out of his body for a while. "Not five star. But you aren't a five star kinda guy, are ya?" A strong clap to the vamp's shoulder led him to the door.

#####

Dean stood in front of a full length mirror that was twice as wide as it needed to be. Collin stood behind him, smoothing the heavy damask of the jacket he wore. Emerald green silk with silver embroidered ivy, cut to fit close at the waist and broad over his shoulders. A silver chain of linked medallions settled on his chest and he almost liked the high collar with delicate edging. 

"Her Grace specified the colors directly. It is quite a complementary combination, Sir Dean." Collin busied around the room and brought a cape made of animal skin and trimmed in what looked like black wolves fur. "Finishing touches, yeah? This attaches to the epaulets at your shoulders. Watch carefully, you'll be removing it later."

Dean did watch, mostly, but he was distracted by how this all looked. He truly felt like a member of the court. He looked like he belonged here. Like a man of his station. 

Collin stood next to him in the reflection, nodding in appreciation. "Yes. Very well then, are you ready?"

Dean strapped the Blades thigh holster on and pulled it tight before following his squire."Yeah, carriage house?"

"Correct. You'll join her there for the funeral procession. She's asked the majority of the officers of the court to be there. You, well, you'll ride in the carriage with her." Collin beamed with excitement for Dean. "Almost like an introduction to the Kingdom, Sir."

This would make it official. Everyone in hell would know who he was and why he was here. 

"Guess we better get goin' then, huh? 

#####

Although the event was somber, the air buzzed with electricity. Dean recognized most of the faces milling around the carriage house, save for the people working there. 

Horses were being harnessed to an open carriage and draped in silks of emerald green. Both were ink black with braided manes, Dean wouldn't have imagined anything else. He stood awkwardly to the side, nodding curt greetings to members of the Guard as they arrived. 

A voice from beside him pulled him out of the daze he was in. "Hello, Sir Winchester. Haven't seen you in a day or two." Elisabeth was dressed much like he was, her accents cobalt blue. "Honestly, I haven't seen much of anyone. You've been keeping her Majesty pretty busy."

Dean really didn't like her, but he couldn't put a finger on why. "Oh, I'd say the opposite. I've only been doing what she asked." She didn't look at him when he spoke, another little thing on the pile of shit he didn't like about her.

"See, that's the problem, Dean. I am council to the Queen. She discusses plans with me. Then it's my job to weigh the options with her and decide what's best for the Kingdom. Then you show up and I can't even get an audience. Why do you think that is?"

Because you're annoying as fuck. Don't say it, Dean. Act the part and play the game.

Instead, Dean burned holes in the side of Elisabeth's head when he pinned her with a look. "You'll have to ask her. We don't talk about you. Our time is spent on important matters, Liz." That made her turn her head.

"I didn't ask about what happens when you two are alone, Winchester." Her words were an acidic hiss from behind clenched teeth. "This is about me and my station. Not you and your relationship with Queen Abaddon."

Green eyes flicked to black and Dean felt a thrumming burn from the Mark. 

"The person closest to Queen Abaddon? That's me. You know how much she talks about you? Not at all. If she needs you or wants you near her, she's gonna say so. And when she does, it's gonna be me that lets you know. Now, fall in line. Don't think I won't tame you."

The entire time Dean spoke lowly into Elisabeth's space she kept her mouth screwed shut. With a tilt of his head, he let her know he was waiting for an answer. 

It was a tiny bow, short enough to keep her eyes on him. "Yes, as you command." A crooked smile and a blink back told her he was finished. 

Double doors were flung open and the room scattered to make a path for the Queen. Dean took the opportunity to get a dig in before he made his way to the carriage. With eyes flicked black and a deeper bass than usual, he chastised her openly. "That's Sir Winchester to you. If you're so worried about your station, you should know your place, Liz."

#####

Dean stood at the wooden stool placed next to the door of the carriage while he waited for the Queen. She walked the path the crowd had made for her and nodded in acknowledgement to their bows and curtsies. 

She was an absolute vision. Black silk embroidered in the pattern of silver snake scales draped her body from shoulders to wrists, then flared at the waist, ending in a floor length gown. The sleeves ended in soft lace, green perfectly matching the brocade of Dean's vest, that draped elegantly to her knuckles. 

The cut of the neckline was deep, past her sternum, and lined with the same lace making a ruffle that set off the opalescent skin on her chest. 

Viking braids on each side of her head held her hair back and were interwoven with silver wire that connected to a crown that crossed her hairline and dropped to a 'v' shape at the center. An emerald pendant dangled and matched the color scheme she'd called for. 

Dean bowed deep, slowly taking in the details of her on his way backup. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and held it there for a moment, completely forgetting where he was and who was watching. 

"My Queen. You're carriage awaits." He was completely lost in her. She pulled her skirt up to mid shin and made her way across the bench seat. Two ladies had joined her and fussed about with her dress, laying the fabric flat before sitting in the seats facing her. 

"Sir Dean? Please, come sit." She softly patted the bench beside her. He hoisted himself up and adjusted to get as comfortable as possible on the narrow seat. "Alright then. Ready?"

The carriage lurched when it took off, horses finding their stride. Having the ladies facing him would have been weird if it wasn't for the heavy hoods covering the top third of their faces. One of them had the same mouth as Lady Laura and Dean wondered if she was there because of him. 

Abaddon spoke soft and low next to him and Dean had no doubt she was pissed off. "I don't know what that little display was back there was, but it was unacceptable." 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Shit. He'd kissed her hand like she wasn't the Queen of Hell and he didn't serve her. 

"I'm not pleased. I thought you knew your place, Dean. Especially out here. What do we work on, Dean? Hmmm?"

"Control-your Grace."

"That's right. And tonight? Tonight we're going to work on what's appropriate based on where we are and who's watching. Understood?"

Dean stared at her for two beats, making sure he had her focus. "Yes, my Queen. I trust you."

Abaddon's lips parted while she took in a breath before a slow, loose smile lit up her face. "Good boy. Very good." Dean definitely didn't whine when she praised him right out here in the open. "I saw you chatting away with Elisabeth. Are you two getting along?"

He had to blink a couple times to catch up with the subject change. "Oh, um, I don't know about getting along. She seems resentful. Guess she's not spending as much time with you as she used to, not since I got here."

"That makes sense. Without a private guard, I didn't make a move unless I talked to her first. Did you put her mind at ease?"

He heard what she was saying and it all added up, but there was still that lack of trust where Elisabeth was concerned. 

"Your Grace, she was pretty angry. Disrespectful even. Honestly, putting her at ease wasn’t on the top of my priority list. I don't know if I trust her being so close to you. I mean, if I'm supposed to protect-"

"No, you don't need to explain yourself.” Abaddon waved a hand absently at him. “I’ve given you a job to do and you’re doing it. Her disrespect is inexcusable, I will address that. As far as her position? She’s not really needed as much, now is she?"

“Your Grace, you don't have to put all of your eggs in one basket here. There’s nothing wrong with you having a team of people working for you. Ya know? Let me focus on the armies.”

“Leaving what? My wardrobe? I’ve got that under control. The staff at the castle? Someone already does that and I don't want to be bothered with it. Send Elisabeth out to the battle field. She’s strong. With all of the reorganization, I’m sure you have a place for her, yeah?”

Dean wanted to say more and convince Abaddon that maybe that wasn't such a good idea, but he could see the conversation was over by the set of her jaw. Elisabeth already felt slighted and moving her away from the Queen would add salt to her wound. How far out would it be possible to push her. Deep in the recesses of his mind, Dean thought of utilizing the circles of hell. If she didn't like it, fine. Let Alistair handle it. 

Abaddon laid a hand on Dean’s leg to get his attention as the carriage rounded a corner and passed through an archway that led to a square in town. The border of the area was lined with people, all waving and calling out to Abaddon. Once they stopped, she smiled and lifted her hand in greeting while Dean opened the door and jumped out. 

The stool was placed at the edge by the driver and the man bowed deeply to Dean. Over his shoulder, Dean saw the procession that had been following them. The sheer size of it was impressive, but it was the banners carried on horseback that he was in awe of.   
The one closest to him was blood red and a raven in profile was sewn into it. One row behind and to the left was another. Jewel tone silk bordered a dark grey heavy damask flag. Dead center, in ruby red silk was the Mark. His banner. This was his seal.

Abaddon stood in the doorway to the carriage, waiting for Dean's attention. Finally he looked up at her and offered his hand when she stepped down to stand in front of him. 

"Your flag announces your arrival. I'm rather pleased with the way it came out, aren't you?" Dumbfounded, Dean just nodded at her. His station, his command, his banner. Along with his control, they were all gifts from his Queen.

Eli, Elisabeth and other official looking people approached from further back in the procession. As a unit they turned to take the raised platform that the pyers laid out in front of. 

Abaddon laced her arm through her Council woman's and spoke quietly. Dean couldn't pick out words but he could see the small nods Elisabeth was making and the way her shoulders tensed. Dean could have sworn that he saw Abaddon’s fingers twist in the meat of Elisabeth’s shoulder before she walked away from her. 

"Hey, Eli. How ya doin? Holding up ok?"

The man's dark skin glowed in the sunlight. The cut on his forehead was scabbed over but didn't look so angry anymore.

"Yes, I'm alright. Just need to get this pageantry over with and get to work. There were a lot of developments overnight with the troops. I think you'll be happy with the proposals."

"Yeah? Nice work, man. So, Benny's here. I want you to meet him. After we get back and change out of these monkey suits, meet at the tavern and bring the men, alright?"

"Sir, of course. But it would be wise to keep your, uh, ‘monkey suit’ on for the meeting. You need to make an impression. You understand, don’t you?" Dean nodded his acknowledgement and fell into position behind Abaddon with Eli at his side. The crowd silenced and waited for her to speak with expectant faces. A young woman, heavily pregnant with two children under ten at her feet, stood at the head of William's body while Christian's had no one. 

The thought of a man who had nothing had given everything in battle ran through Dean's mind. He had spent nearly thirty years fighting everyone else's battles. He'd be proud to die like this one day, but he wasn't going to leave him to be burned alone. He wasn't an afterthought. He was a soldier. 

Quietly, he descended the stairs and stood opposite of William's family. Abaddon spoke highly of both, but made sure to mention that Christian died because he ran into battle. That he served Purgatory and the Kingdom well. 

William's squire lit a torch and touched it to the kindling, watching the fire roar to life. Dean took the torch from the stand at his side, smelling the sweet fuel oil it had been soaked in. It burst into flame when he touched it to William's pyre. Turning slowly, he silently lit Christian's body on fire and soaked in the knowledge that he would probably see this happen again. A hundred times or more.


	10. Knight of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for how long this took, other thank Dean is a fashionista and peacocks A LOT. I'm not making any promises for time frames on posting this. Not gonna lie. She's a bitch and is fighting me every step of the way. I will keep posting as it comes up though.

Dean sat at the head of yet another table, listening to yet another rambling voice bestow the ins and outs of yet more plans for his Army. If he was gonna be honest, he tuned out about 3 speeches ago. Now he sat, fiddling with the mug in front of him, half assedly paying attention to someone droning on and on about...Jesus. He didn’t even know. 

Benny was to his right and Eli on his left. While Eli furiously took notes, Dean could have sworn he heard Benny snore a couple of times. 

“...with this plan for the Armies, we can rest assured…” 

Christ. This guy was still chattin’ away. 

“...more so than before, we should see an increase to the…”

Off to the side of the room, Dean spotted Elisabeth trying to remain small amongst the soldiers. Once he caught her eye though, she stepped forward out of the shadows and raised her chin defiantly.. 

Ok, so it’s gonna be like that. You wanna play? Let's play. 

“Yeah,thanks - uh?” Dean waved a hand randomly at the talk box standing in front of him.

"Rupert, Sir Winchester. My name is Rupert.” 

“Of course it is. Look, I appreciate your input, or whatever. But this isn't what I do. I don't have the time to spare on projected results and sustainable staffing.” 

Rupert tried to keep his composure, but just ended up looking like a kicked puppy. He probably ended up in Hell as punishment for boring people to death. He gathered up his things in a whirlwind of shuffling and muttering. 

“Hey, Liz? Remember, just this morning, when you were complaining that you didn't have enough to do, right?” He knew fucking with her and poking at her would piss Elisabeth off, but if looks could kill, Dean would be dead. Again. Or still?

“I don't know if this would be in my wheelhouse, Sir Winchester.” She was absolutely seething at being called out in front of a room full of people. “Maybe someone else…”

“Nope. Oh no, Liz.” Dean leaned back heavily in his chair and shot a grin over to Benny, who he’d invited to tag along today. “See, the last thing I want is for you to feel left out or underappreciated. So, here’s the plan. You go hang out with my friend Rupert here. Rupert? You make sure Miss Liz has all of your information so that the two of you can work on that sustainability thing you were talking about. Cool?”

Rupert perked right up and made his way to Elisabeth, juggling the plans he’d rolled up, with his hand outstretched. “Yes, SIR! Elisabeth, I can't wait for you to see how all of this pans out. I’m thrilled to have this opportunity. Wait until you see the CHARTS!” Elisabeth was glaring back over her shoulder at Dean while she was being led out of the room by the most excited nerd Dean had ever seen. 

Benny’s big paw reached out and nudged Dean’s shoulder as he leaned in, whispering low, “I forgot how much of an ass you could be, Chief:”

Dean crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and smirked. “You know you missed me.”

“That I did, man. That I did. Are we done here or…?”

“I kinda wanted to talk with you and Eli. Eli, have you spoken with your men? What’s the news on expanding the troops?”

Eli rose from his chair, addressing the room as a group. “Several of you have tossed names around. I appreciate all that you're doing. However, we need more than names. Sir Winchester, I believe that if we were to round up the willing and take a day to visit Cain, we could test them out.”

“Like a combine?” Eli stood staring at Dean blankly. “Oh, yeah. Guess you wouldn't get the football reference. Ok, so we set tests of strength, agility, and knowledge.” Dean ticked off each of the items off his fingers. “And then place them from there?”

“Exactly! I really think it’s the best way.”

Dean nodded in agreement and turned back to Benny. “Time to jump, man. You staying or not? 'Cause if you are, it’s time to introduce you to the class. Scars and all.” Dean hoped he’d stay. Sure, Benny would be an asset, but he was also a friend.

“Well, you know I do love making new friends... Sir Winchester.” Benny’s Cajun drawl made him sound flirty and threatening all at the same time. 

The twinkle in Benny’s eye was mirrored right back in Dean’s. The most loyal man he’d ever met -- yeah, he said it. Benny never lied. Not like Sam did, over and over. Benny never went behind his back and worked with his enemies. Nah, Cas did that. Over and fucking over. Benny? Benny said he was gonna do something, and he did it. You could bet your life on it. Benny always had Dean's back, even gave his life for him.

Dean gave a sideways grin and a wink before calling for the attention of the meeting to himself. “Alright! Everyone here has been given the plans for the near future. We’ve voted and talked this thing into the ground. So!” Half of the people in the room jumped when he clapped his hands together twice. “I want all of the plans finalized and brought to Eli by nightfall tomorrow. Someone get with Cain and make sure he knows we’re coming and what we need.”

Two men in a corner raised their hands and nodded at Dean. With a curt nod back, he accepted their willingness to get the job done. 

“This here is Benny.” Dean clapped the big man on the shoulder and left it there for his introduction. “He’s going to be working on another battalion. A battalion of beasts. Benny’s a vampire..” The sound of shuffling fabric signaled a shift in the room as weapons were reached for. “Hey! Next hand that reaches for a blade gets cut off and shoved up an ass. I don't care about your prejudices, you will respect him. Same as Eli. Same as me. I find out you’re a bigoted asshat, I’ll have you singing songs with Alistair before you can blink. Ya’ll hear me?”

“Hey, Dean. You alright?” Benny’s hand was on Dean’s shoulder now. It took half a minute of silence to realize the state he was in. Dean was standing, fists clenched and eyes black as night. 

“Yeah…” A five count inhale. A ten count exhale. “I'm alright, Benny.” Dean willed his eyes back to green and unclenched his fingers one at a time. The room was silent and the tension was thick. Many of the people in this room had heard of Dean Winchester the demon, but had never witnessed it. 

With one final breath to try and calm down enough to be the leader the room was looking at him to be, Dean raised his head and stood tall. If his Queen was here, she’d tell him how good he was doing. So much control. Now that he was composed again, he went back to addressing the room.

“We’ve got access to Purgatory. In Purgatory, we have access to beasts and monsters who were made for battle. I trust Benny to assemble troops that no one will expect to see coming. If Abaddon wants to invade, well, anywhere, we would be able to do it without a second thought.”

From the doorway, Dean could see Colin waving to get his attention. Dean motioned him over and bent his head to allow him to speak closely, not wanting to be overheard. “Sir, I have a squire ready for Benny. But, understandably he has concerns.”

“No, it’s good Colin. You have my word. It’s not like that. Tell the squire he’s safer in this assignment than any other.”

“Very good. I do need to get you to the blacksmith, then. They have your armor ready, Sir.”

His armor. With his crest. Everything was working out as planned. His army would follow his banner. Soon, he would be fully prepared to fight for his Queen and do her bidding. 

“Everyone?” Straightening up, Dean addressed the entire room again. “Go rest. I want us training with Cain the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, spend the day figuring out what you do best and what those that you’ve suggested are good at. Why you think they’d be valuable.” They nodded as a whole and took this as a dismissal and started to file out the door. Dean began gathering his meager notes and addressed Eli and Benny. 

“If you two could come up with some activities that would showcase the skills we’re looking for. Maybe running, endurance, hand to hand, weapons...that kind of stuff. Eli, you know what we use here. Fill Benny in, yeah?”

“Of course. Benny, I’d suggest a late lunch, but -”

Benny laughed and shook his head at the unspoken reason Eli had for his hesitation. “No, no, I get it. I make due to not run around killing people. No need to serve me up a sacrifice. I mean, unless you really want to!”

Eli stood with his mouth gaping like a fish before Dean let him off the hook. “He’s kidding, Eli. Benny, tell your squire what you need to make due. You don't mind watching our friend Eli here eat like a dirty human do you?”

“Nah, it’s good. C’mon, Sir Eli.”

Dean watched the two of them walk away, Benny shaking his head and laughing while Eli walked with his back ridgid, obviously on edge. 

“Sir? The blacksmith? Her Majesty asked that you bring the finished project to her chambers tonight. She’d like final say.” Colin’s big eyes looked pleased with himself. He knew how excited Dean had been for this. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” There was a big part of Dean that perked up at the thought of being near Abaddon again. There was also a small voice that made itself known and reminded him she’d been angry with him earlier. “Sure, uh...after you Colin.”

#####

Dean stood in the sweltering back room of the blacksmiths shop. The heat of the bellows leached through the walls and stilled the air. His squire stood behind him and waited for his input while he took in the sight of himself. 

There were formed layers of metal along each part of his body, from his feet to his neck. Each was obviously made for him, curving and laying against the edges of each protrusion of bone and muscle. 

“Colin, thank you for suitin’ me up here. I wouldn’t have known where to start.”

“Sir, these aren't meant to be put on alone.” Colin fussed with the straps at his hips that attached the cussie to the fauld, or the thigh part to the skirt thing as Dean put it. “That’s my job. To prepare you for battle.” With a smile, Colin handed over the last piece of the suit, save for the helmet. 

“Gauntlets! These I know.” Dean’s hands slid home against the soft calfskin lining inside the metal gloves. Colin took over and tied off the leather lacing that kept them in place. “Man, this is amazing. The crest is just...wow.” The Mark of Cain was embossed and painted blood red across the breastplate, another term Dean had gotten right. “So, helmet?”

With a flourish Colin presented the helmet. The visor and comb were a darker brushed color than the rest of it. Even taken with the beauty of the thing, Dean had to bite down on his cheek to keep from calling the comb “the mohawk thingy”. There was a heavy thunk when the gauntlets touched the sides of the helmet and his hands raised it above his head to slide it into place. 

Time seemed to slow down. The clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer became muffled and soft around the edges. Dean’s vision darkened and blurred, his focus strictly in front of him. When the helmet settled on the gorret, made up of rings of metal painted to match his crest, the entire suit clanked into place. Dean was surrounded by a thrumming sound, and he couldn't decide if it was the suit or his own blood rushing in his ears. 

The Mark felt alive on the inside of his right forearm, squirming deeper into the muscle and veins. Not just sitting on the surface, but going deeper and becoming part of...well, everything. And if felt good, really fucking good. Dean felt broader, more sturdy and unstoppable. He could envision himself with a broadsword in one hand and the blade in the other. He could smell the blood as it spattered across the visor. He could see the thick droplets sluicing paths along the planes of polished metal. 

“Sir Winchester... Dean!” Dean's metal-clad hand reached out and clutched at Colin’s shirt before he remembered where he was. Heart pounding and breathing hard he shook away the visions and let the squire go. 

“Shit. Colin, you alright? I uh... guess i went dark for a minute there.I’m sorry, man.” Dean tried his best to smooth the bunched fabric that was in his hands with the gauntlets still in his hands, counting his breathing again, trying to gain control again.

Good boy. Look at how good you are. 

Collin on the other hand looked terrified.

“So, the Queen wants to see the whole shabang, huh?” Trying for a change of subject was awkward and seemed to jostle Colin back to attention.

“Yes, it’s for the best to leave it on, Sir. We can take our time. I think you’ll enjoy the reaction.” The suit was rather heavy and bulky, but he’d need to get used to the feel of it if he was going to fight in it.

“However, I think I should hold on to the helmet for you.” Colin posed this as more of a question than a statement and Dean knew it was because of his behavior when he’d had it all on.

“Yeah - um, yes. Probably for the best.” The gauntlets rang against the sides of the helmet as Dean pulled it up and off his head. The dimly lit room was suddenly too bright and the noise of hammer on steel was deafening. He handed the piece off to his squire, who seemed to be watching every move Dean made. Very closely. 

#####

“Stand up straight, son. A man’s confidence can be seen just by watching him move.” John tugged up on the collar of Dean’s flannel, the new-to-him one he had to go to the thrift store because, at 16, his shoulders were getting too wide for his old ones.

The walk through the markets was long and awkward to begin with. Everyone could hear Dean coming and gawked as he walked by. Many of the villagers gestured at their own chests and spoke low to each other, Others flat out pointed at Dean and shouted across the walkway to each other, “Did you see that?! It’s the Mark!”

“Sir Winchester, I told you you’d get a reaction. Look at them! You definitely are creating a stir.”  
Colin was absolutely bouncing on the balls of his feet. Dean couldn't help think of the old Looney Tune cartoons with the terrier that bounced all around the feet of the bulldog. Dean was the bulldog in this scenario. The way he used to act around Dad.

“That face of yours, Dean? That’s gonna get you in the door with the ladies and all that, but not when you really need it to matter. See, we gotta walk in there like we have every reason to be there. Cops start doubting you and they won’t give you anything.”

He stretched his gait and held his shoulders higher, taking it all in. The pageantry of just walking through the little village was almost comical. Almost. Dean’s ego was stroked by each clutch of a woman’s hand or each child running through a forest of legs to peek out at him. Groups of men dove out of the pathway to allow him to pass. All of this, all of this respect, for him. 

“If you look like you should be respected, people respect you on instinct. We’re all just here to play a role, Dean. Shove every bit of self doubt down, deep inside. Don’t let them see any real emotions. Cry when you’re alone.”

Colin’s legs moved quickly to try and keep up with the pace Dean was setting and his smile stretched wider than he would have thought possible when Dean began raising a hand in greeting as throngs of villagers called out his name. 

“Make an impression the first time they see you. You don't have time to fuck around. Not in this life.”

“Is it gonna be like this all the time, Colin? I don't want to get used to this if not.” Dean was half expecting rose petals to fall from the windows lining the second levels of the building. 

“Sir, there has never been anyone in your position. There’s never been a presence to compare you to.”

Dean was never a dumb kid and once John had let him shadow along on cases, he’d watched his dad work his magic. He could walk around a crime scene and ask just about anyone anything and they’d tell him. When ever Dean asked how he got people to do that, John always replied “Respect. People WANT to respect people, they just need to know where to direct it.”

If there was one thing Dean had learned in his life, it was that there was no other man like him. No son, no brother, no lover, no hunter, no demon like him. And now, in Hell, there had been no man like him. Twice.


End file.
